synopsis: patching up jamesâ wounds after another one of his fights.
word count: 2.5k
info+warnings: fighter!james, fluff, unestablished relationship & discussions about it, description of injury, cheesy dialogue, petnames, flirting, skinship, kissing, not proofread
âOwâow!â
Jamesâ hands came flying up to grip your wrists and halt your movements, the antiseptic held in your hands floating just millimetres from his cut lip.
"Hold still," you said flatly, trying to pull free. "I'm not done."
"Pretty girl, I think you're trying to finish me off yourself."
"Don't call me that when you're bleeding on my bathroom counter."
He loosened his grip just enough for you to resume dabbing at the wound. His jaw tightened, a sharp hiss escaping through his teeth, but he didn't attempt to pull away again. He let you work, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, tracking every flicker of concentration and worried crease between your brows.
"I won, you know," he finally spoke, the words slightly garbled as you pressed the cotton against his split lip.
You pulled back, examining your work. The cut was deep but clean now, you'd done this enough times to know the difference between a wound that needed stitches and one that could be managed with butterfly bandages and a prayer.
"Sure, baby, sure," you said flatly, reaching for the bandages whilst barely sparing him a glance.
"I'm serious." His hands dropped from your wrists to your waist, settling there like they'd been made to fit. "You should have seen the state of him, big guy, thought he was tough."
"Mmhm."
"He's probably still trying to figure out which way is up."
You pressed a fresh cotton ball to the gash above his eyebrow, and he hissed through his teeth, eyes snapping shut.
âWarn me next time.â He grumbled as his head shifted back in an attempt to escape the pain, but you only pressed the gauze harder onto the wound, hand winding round to the back of his head to keep him in place.
âMaybe if you stopped getting hit in the face it wouldnât hurt so much.â
His eyes finally open and instantly lock on yours, a playful glint in them as he spoke. âWhereâs the fun in that?â
You didnât dignify that with a response, simply choosing to narrow your eyes before bringing your free hand back around, palm cupping his chin and tilting his head to allow a better angle for you to mend the eyebrow wound. He went pliant under your touch, even allowing his cheek to nuzzle slightly into your thumb whilst his eyes never left your face.
The bathroom was small, and the proximity was inevitable. You stood between his legs, his knees bracketing your hips, his hands warm and heavy on your waist. You could feel every breath he took, could smell the blood and sweat and something uniquely him beneath it all.
âYouâre so cute.â He mumbled, more to himself than for you to hear but you just about caught it.
âAm not.â You answer, trying to fight the smile that was creeping onto your lips.
"Are too," he insisted, his voice soft and almost drowsy despite the adrenaline that must have still been coursing through him. "Your nose is all scrunched up and worried, itâs cute."
"Shut up or I'll make this hurt more."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
He laughed, then immediately regretted it as you began to press firmly again. "Owâokay, not laughing."
You finished the eyebrow, pressing a butterfly bandage over the cut before then stepping back to survey your work. His lip was patched, the bandage above his eye was secure, and you'd wiped away most of the blood from his face. He still looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a truck, but at least now he looked like a clean person who'd gone ten rounds with a truck.
"There," you said, dropping the supplies back into the first aid kit and positioning yourself to step away. "You'll live."
"That's it? No bedside manner? No sweet nothings?" His hands on your waist tightened just a fraction, a whisper of him not wanting you to leave just yet.
"You're on my bathroom counterâthat's not a bed, and I don't do sweet nothings."
"Liar." His hands tugged you closer, his thumbs tracing circles against your hip bones. "You're the sweetest person I know, you just pretend to be tough."
"I'm not pretending."
"If thatâs what you say, baby."
You glared at him. He beamed back, split lip and all.
"Kiss it better?" He asked, tilting his chin up, his eyes going soft and hopeful.
"Absolutely not. You have an open wound on your lip."
"So?"
"So I'm not kissing you while you're leaking blood."
âBut you fixed me up!â James whined like a child, attempting to pull you even closer with his hands.
âBaby, it will do you no good. In fact, it will probably make it hurt more.â
Your reasoning fell on deaf ears
He tugged you forward until you stumbled against him, your palms bracing against his chest to keep yousrelf from crushing his ribs. The heat of his skin seeped through his shirt onto your fingers, and you could feel his heart hammering beneath your touch. He was still running on adrenalineâyou realised, still wired from the fight that ended only an hour ago.Â
"Jamesâ"
"Please?" His voice dropped, all the playfulness bleeding out of it. "Just one. I don't care if it hurts."
Your eyes scanned his face, your internal battle holding little power over how he was gazing so desperately at you. You noticed the butterfly bandage above his eyebrow was already starting to curl at the edges from the sweat on his skin, and you reached your thumb up to gently press it back onto his skin.
"You're such a doofus," you whispered.
"I know."
"You're reckless and stupid and you just appear at my place all bashed up like it's nothing."
"I know."
"And you think you can justâbat your eyelashes and get whatever you want."
"Is it working?"
You hated that it was.
"Close your eyes," you said and he instantly followed your orders, a slight smirk appearing as he did so.
You leaned in, so close that your lips were barely a breath away from his. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the smell of the antiseptic mingling with the copper of his blood flooding your senses. He stayed perfectly still, waiting, his eyelashes fanned against his bruised cheeks.
Then gradually you pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth, right where the skin was still intact. A soft, featherlight kiss that barely lasted a second before you pulled back.
He exhaled shakily.
"Was that supposed to be the kiss?" He asked, eyes still closed and lips beginning to form a grumpy pout.
"You asked for one kiss, I gave you one."
"That was a cheek kiss."
"Technically, it was the corner of your mouth. That's close enough."
He opened his eyes, and the look he gave you was equal parts exasperated and adoring. "Baby, you're killing me."
"Good. Maybe next time you'll think twice before getting your face punched in."
"Not a chance."
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling, and James used that moment when you were slightly distracted to loop his arm around your back and pull you straight into him.
You let out a small yelp as your body collided with his, your hands flying up to brace against his shoulders. His grip was firm around your waist, anchoring you in place between his thighs, and his face was suddenly right there, inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips.
"Jamesâ"
"Shh." His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and there was something intense flickering beneath the usual playful bravado. "Just let me have this."
"Have what?"
"You here, patching me up and looking at me like I'm worth fixing."
Your throat tightened at his words. "You are worth fixing."
"Am I?"
"You're an idiot, James. A reckless, stupid, beautiful idiot who shows up at my door bleeding and expects me to kiss it better." You cupped his jaw, your thumb brushing over his uninjured cheek. "But you're my idiot, and I'll always patch you upâI'll always be here."
He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours like he was looking for the lie.
"Pretty girl," he breathed after a moment.
"Shut up and kiss me."
"But my lipâ"
"You wanted it, now you've got it."
His grin was wolfish, even with the split lip. "Yes, ma'am."
He leaned forward just slightly and his lips were quick to meet yours.
It was soft at first, mindful of the wound, his lips gentle against yours. But then you melted into him, your fingers threading into his hair with your weight shifting onto him gently, and something in him seemed to break. He kissed you deeper, one hand sliding up your back to cradle your head, the other pressing you flush against him whilst tracing the very curve of your spine.
When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes still closed, a stupid, dopey grin on his face.
âDid it hurt?â You finally ask, eyes scanning his features for any hint of pain.
"Mhmm," he answered, not even bothering to open his eyes, that lovesick smile still resting on his lips.
You smacked his arm in response.
"Owâow!" His eyes flew open, his hand coming up to rub the spot you'd hit. "What was that for?!"
"You said it hurt! I was leaning on your ribs!"
"Not like that!" He pouted, looking genuinely offended. "I meant the kiss, pretty girl. But the kiss was worth the pain. Not worthâ" he gestured vaguely at his arm, "âwhatever that was."
"Consider it payback for scaring me half to death showing up like this."
"Payback?" He gaped at you. "I'm injured! I'm a wounded man! And you justâ" he made a smacking motion with his hand, "âassaulted me!"
"You're fine."
"I am not fine. I'm fragile, delicate, bruised and batteredâ"
"James."
"âand my own girlfriend is attacking meâ"
"I'm not your girlfriend."
He paused mid-whine, his head tilting in mild confusion. "You're not?"
"We've never talked about it."
"Well, I'm talking about it now." He grabbed your hips and pulled you flush against him again, his grin returning full force despite the split lip. "You're my girlfriend. You patch me up, you kiss me better, you let me sleep in your bedâ"
"You invite yourself."
"âand you smack me when I'm being annoying. That's girlfriend behaviour."
"That's exasperated behaviour."
"Same thing." He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your nose, then the corner of your mouth. "Girlfriend."
"Jamesâ"
"Girlfriend." Another kiss, this one to your forehead. "My pretty girl."
"Stopâ"
"Girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriendâ"
You smacked his arm again, causing him to immediately halt his movements.
"Ow! Okay, okay!" He laughed, wincing as the movement pulled at his ribs. "I'll stop. For now."
"Thank you."
"But only because you're my girlfriend now, and I'm a gentleman."
You sighed, shaking your head. "You're impossible."
"Whatever you say." He grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Girlfriend."
"James."
"What? I'm just stating facts." He pressed another kiss to your cheek, quick and playful. "You're my girlfriend. I'm your boyfriend. We're a thing. A couple. An item. Partners in crimeâ"
"We're not partners in crime. I don't commit crimes."
"You patch up a criminal, that's accessory after the fact."
You stared at him. "Did you justâ"
"Legal jargon." He winked. "I'm full of surprises."
"You're full of something, that's for sure."
"Romance. I'm full of romance." He pulled you closer, his hands sliding down to rest on your lower back. "And you love it."
"I tolerate it."
"Same thing."
"It's really not."
"Sure, baby, sure."
You glared at him, and that seemed to only make his grin widen further before you stepped out from between his legs, moving to stand in front of the counter beside him as you organised your first aid box.
"You can ask me to be your girlfriend when you're not bleeding onto my bathroom floor," you said, not looking at him as you neatly arranged the bandages and antiseptic.
The silence that followed was unusual. You glanced briefly over to find him staring at you, his expression caught somewhere between surprised and hopeful.
"Wait," he said slowly. "Really?"
You shrugged, snapping your eyes back to the first aid kit. "Maybe if you ask nicely, and if you're not covered in blood."
"And bruises?"
"You'll always have bruises."
"Fair point." He was quiet for a moment, and you could practically feel him scheming behind you. "So you're saying there's a chance?"
"I'm saying you should probably focus on healing first."
"I can multitask."
"James."
âFine, fine.â He grumbled, but his eyes fell back onto your figure and you failed to notice how they softened before he mumbled to himself.
âPretty girl. Gonna make you mine.â
âDid you just say something?â Your gaze fell back on him as he just shook his head innocently, feigning surprise and absolute confusion, not realising that you had in fact heard him and it was taking everything in you to suppress the blush that was creeping up your cheeks
You returned back to organising the first aid kit, fingers fumbling with the bandages as you tried to compose yourself. Behind you, you could hear him shifting on the counter, the soft rustle of fabric as he adjusted his position.
You could feel his eyes on you. They always found you, no matter where you were in the room: tracking your movements, cataloguing every small gesture, and even though you refused to turn around, you knew exactly what expression he was wearing. That soft, adoring look that made your stomach flip and your heart stutter.
Your fingers brushed against the antiseptic bottle, and you found yourself smiling despite everything that had happened tonight: the blood on his knuckles, the bruises blooming across his ribs that he had managed to keep hidden from you, the fact that he'd shown up at your door at midnight, broken and reckless and so achingly him.
He was going to ask you eventually, properly, with no blood involved, and likely partnered with flowers and a dinner because he was dramatic like that.
And you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were going to say yes.
You pressed your lips together, fighting the grin threatening to break across your face. The blush had reached your cheeks now, warm and undeniable, and you knew he could see it and was probably grinning like an idiot behind you.
You finally turned, a retort ready on your lips, but the words died in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you so softly, like you were the only thing in the world worth seeing. His hand reached out, catching yours and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
You moved to step back between his legs, and his hands found your waist immediately, pulling you close. You pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your lips, his hand moving to cup the back of your head once more whilst he gently pulled you into a hug.
You realised with startling clarity in that momentâwith his arms around you and his warmth seeping into your skinâthat you were completely, and utterly done for.
SYPNOSIS you find out the person who had been secretly leaving you chocolate milks is your crush
WARNINGS/DISCLAIMERS NO ACTUAL CONFESSION SCENE OR ANYTHING OF THE SORTS! but the two know they like eachother, trainee life, sleep deprivation, overworking, unhealthy sleep habits, brief swearing, awkward flirting, mutual pining, fluff,
AUTHORS NOTE this is an old draft because ive been feeling really unmotivated lately. its not the original martin fluff i wanted to post, so instead i chose to post this one because im only two paragraphs in on the other one
being a trainee had stopped feeling exciting a long time ago. every day blended into the next until the only things you could remember were the mirrors in the practice rooms, the ache in your muscles, and the constant countdown of how many hours were left before you had to do it all over again.Â
sleeping in the dorms had become a luxury you could barely afford, because by the time you walked all the way back, showered, and finally crawled into bed, you would only get a few miserable hours before your alarm dragged you back out again.Â
everyone had warned you about sleeping somewhere else in the building, saying it was unsafe and that staff would eventually catch you, but after discovering an abandoned floor that nobody seemed to use anymore, you had quietly claimed one of the old benches as your own. it was far from comfortable, but at least it let you steal another hour or two of sleep.
your body felt so heavy one night that it almost seemed impossible to stay upright. you leaned against the wall beside the elevator, blinking slowly as your vision threatened to blur, your head dipping forward before you caught yourself at the last second.Â
your knees nearly buckled when you stumbled backwards, and you let out a quiet sigh before lightly patting your cheeks a few times, hoping the sting would be enough to wake you up. it barely helped, your eyelids still refusing to cooperate as you waited for the elevator with the patience of someone who was simply too exhausted to be annoyed anymore.
when the familiar ding echoed through the hallway, you lazily pushed yourself off the wall and took a step forward. the doors slid open, and before your foot could cross the entrance, you finally looked up.
everything seemed to freeze.
standing inside the elevator was the prettiest boy you had ever seen in your life. he was so tall that he almost looked out of place in the small space, dressed in an oversized black t shirt that hung loosely over a pair of baggy grey sweatpants. his brown hair fell naturally over his forehead, slightly messy in a way that somehow looked effortless, and even from where you stood, it looked impossibly soft. he looked just as tired as you did, dark circles faint beneath his eyes, yet somehow it only made him look even more unreal.
for a second, neither of you moved.
his eyes widened ever so slightly after realizing someone was waiting outside, and after what felt like an eternity, he quickly bowed his head in greeting. instinctively, you returned the bow, mumbling a quiet hello that was so soft you were not even sure he heard it. he stepped out of the elevator while you stepped inside, your shoulders almost brushing as you passed each other, and the faint scent of fresh laundry lingered in the air for just a moment before disappearing completely.
your fingers hesitated over the buttons before pressing your floor, and as the doors slowly began to close, your eyes drifted back toward him without thinking. he walked down the hallway with an unhurried pace before disappearing into the nearly empty cafeteria, not looking back even once.
the doors shut.
you immediately let out an awkward cough, your face growing warmer as you rubbed the back of your neck.
seriously?
you were a hybe trainee. every second of your life revolved around evaluations, monthly rankings, vocal lessons, dance practice, and trying to survive another day without falling apart. you barely had enough time to eat properly, let alone waste your energy thinking about some random boy you had seen for less than thirty seconds.
you quietly clicked your tongue at yourself, shaking your head as if that would somehow force the image out of it.
it didnât work.
by the time the elevator reached your floor, his face was still sitting comfortably in the back of your mind.
you wandered through the silent hallway you had memorized weeks ago, turning corners without even needing to think until you reached your little hiding spot. nobody ever came here anymore. the lights were dimmer than the rest of the building, the air was cooler, and the only sounds came from the faint hum of the ventilation system overhead. it was strangely peaceful, almost enough to let you forget that you were still inside the company building.
with a tired sigh, you pulled your thick hoodie over your head and tossed it onto the bench before folding it into a rough pillow. now left in only your tank top, the cool air immediately brushed against your skin, but you were far too exhausted to care. you climbed onto the bench, curled onto your side, and rested your head against the bundled fabric, adjusting it a few times until it felt comfortable enough.
you stared quietly at the long hallway.
normally, these were the moments when your mind refused to rest. you would replay choreography in your head, remind yourself which notes you kept missing during vocal practice, or mentally list everything you needed to improve before the next monthly evaluation. you were always thinking about how to become better, because everyone around you was improving just as quickly, and falling behind was never an option.
this time, though, none of those thoughts came. instead, all you could picture was the sleepy looking boy standing inside that elevator, awkwardly bowing with messy brown hair and the softest eyes you had ever seen.
you shut your eyes with an embarrassed groan. this was going to be a problem.
when you woke up at five in the morning, it took a few long moments for your surroundings to make sense. your eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting above you, and for a second you almost panicked, wondering why your bed felt so much harder than usual, before your memories caught up with you.Â
with a sleepy sigh, you rubbed your eyes and stretched until your shoulders cracked, your muscles protesting after another night spent sleeping in an awkward position.
you sat up and knelt beside your backpack, quietly unzipping it before folding your hoodie as neatly as you could and stuffing it back inside. while digging through your things, you realized you were quickly running out of everything clean. there were only a few pieces of clothing left, and you were down to your last pair of underwear. you really needed to go back to the dorms soon, even if it meant sacrificing a little sleep, because you honestly missed taking proper showers. the showers inside the hybe building technically worked, but the water was always freezing, and after weeks of putting up with it, you were beginning to forget what warm water even felt like.
you slipped into one of the nearby bathrooms while the hallways were still empty, changing into a fresh outfit after taking a quick shower. you carefully avoided getting your hair wet, knowing you did not have the time to dry it before practice, then brushed your teeth while staring absentmindedly at your reflection. the dark circles beneath your eyes seemed a little darker every morning, but there was nothing you could do about them.Â
once you finished, you wrapped your toothbrush in a piece of aluminum foil before stuffing it back into your bag with the rest of your things, making sure everything fit before slinging the backpack over your shoulder.
before leaving, you wandered back toward your little corner to make sure you had not forgotten anything. your steps slowed the moment you noticed something resting on the bench.Â
a small carton of chocolate milk sat neatly against one of the metal legs.
you blinked at it.
you absolutely loved chocolate milk.
your eyes immediately darted around the empty hallway, trying to spot anyone hiding nearby, but there was nobody there. had it been sitting there the whole time and you somehow missed it yesterday? that seemed impossible. was somebody leaving it there for you? if they were, how did they even know you slept here? or worse, was someone trying to poison you for some weird reason?
far too many questions flooded your already sleep deprived brain, but after one final glance around the hallway confirmed that you were completely alone, your curiosity won. you crouched down, picked up the carton, and inspected it from every angle. it was completely sealed, untouched, and well within the expiration date.
ââŠfree chocolate milk is free chocolate milk,â you quietly mumbled to yourself before slipping it into your hand and heading toward the elevators.
you pressed the button and waited while peeling the paper straw off the back of the carton. after lining it up with the tiny silver opening, you pushed but nothing happened.
you frowned and pushed harder until the paper straw bent in half. âthese fucking paper strawsâŠâ you muttered under your breath, trying to straighten it again as it only seemed determined to fold even more with every attempt.
you were so focused on your battle against the straw that you completely missed the elevator arriving.
it was only when someone quietly cleared his throat that your head shot up.
your heart immediately skipped.
it was him. the same boy from yesterday stood inside the elevator, one hand tucked inside the pocket of his grey sweatpants as he watched you with an expression that looked somewhere between amused and awkward.
your eyes widened. âoh⊠sorry,â you quickly said, bowing your head before hurrying inside. you stepped beside him and pressed your floor, suddenly becoming very interested in the glowing buttons instead of looking anywhere near him.
silence settled between the two of you almost immediately. you tightened your grip around the chocolate milk, painfully aware of how close he was standing beside you. you could practically hear the elevator humming as it climbed, and for some reason, every passing second only made the quiet feel heavier.
then, completely out of nowhere, he spoke. âiâm martin.â his voice was soft enough to almost blend into the sound of the elevator.
you looked up at him, slightly caught off guard by the sudden introduction, before giving him a small smile. âiâmââ
ây/n,â he interrupted so naturally that it took your brain a second to process it. âi know. iâve noticed you around before.â
he smiled, and your entire body immediately betrayed you.
heat rushed straight into your ears before spreading across the back of your neck and up to your cheeks, and you could practically feel your face turning bright red in real time. you instinctively looked away, suddenly finding the elevator floor incredibly fascinating, but the tiny laugh that escaped him made it painfully obvious that he had noticed anyway.
martin glanced down at the chocolate milk still trapped in your hands before looking at the bent paper straw sticking awkwardly out between your fingers. the corners of his mouth lifted even higher.
âhere,â he quietly said, holding out his hand. âlet me help.â
you hesitated for half a second before handing it over.
his fingers brushed yours as he took the carton, and your heart immediately decided to embarrass you even further by beating so loudly that you were convinced he could probably hear it. he accepted the paper straw with his other hand, then frowned at the already folded end.
he stuck his tongue out ever so slightly while concentrating, carefully straightening the straw before lining it up with the opening. after another careful push, the straw finally pierced through.
his face instantly brightened with the smallest, most satisfied grin, almost as though he had just accomplished something much bigger than opening a drink.
you had been staring the entire time, starstruck.
he turned back toward you and held the chocolate milk out. âthere.â
you quickly accepted it with both hands, bowing your head. âthank you.â you awkwardly smiled.
âitâs nothing,â he replied so casually that it somehow made your heart flutter even more.
before either of you could say anything else, the elevator chimed.
the doors slid open. martin stepped out first, giving you one last smile before walking away down the hallway at his usual relaxed pace. you remained exactly where you were, still clutching the chocolate milk with both hands as you watched him disappear farther and farther away, only finally looking away once the elevator doors quietly slid shut between you.
that night, you finally forced yourself to go back to your trainee dorm instead of heading toward your usual corner on the abandoned floor. as comforting as that old bench had become, you desperately needed clean clothes, and even more than that, you missed being able to wash yourself without freezing.
 the moment you stepped into the dorm, you dropped your backpack onto the floor and headed straight for the shower, letting the warm water run over your tired body for far longer than you probably should have. every sore muscle seemed to relax a little beneath the heat, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you did not have to rush through it just to avoid shivering.Â
after changing into fresh clothes and repacking your bag for the next day, you collapsed into bed, but by the time you had finished getting everything ready, there were barely three hours left before your alarm rang again.
the sound pulled you awake far sooner than your body was prepared for. your eyes burned from exhaustion as you slowly dragged yourself out of bed, rubbing at your face while trying to convince yourself to stay awake. somehow, after washing up and getting dressed, you managed to make yourself look slightly more alive than you actually felt, although the dark circles under your eyes probably gave you away anyway. with your backpack slung over one shoulder, you quietly left the dorm and made your way back toward the hybe building, mentally preparing yourself for another endless day of training.
the lobby was still relatively quiet when you walked through the entrance, only a handful of trainees scattered around while waiting for practice to begin. you were too busy adjusting the strap of your bag to notice much else at first, but the moment your eyes lifted, they landed on a familiar figure sitting on one of the chairs beside the entrance.
martin, who looked up almost at the exact same time.
the second your eyes met, a smile immediately spread across his face.
before you could even process what was happening, he stood up and walked straight toward you with his hands tucked inside the pockets of his hoodie, somehow looking just as relaxed as always despite the early hour.
âgood morning,â he said, smiling down at you with that same gentle expression that somehow managed to make your stomach flutter every single time.
before you could respond, he held out a carton of chocolate milk.
your eyes widened slightly before you accepted it with both hands, unable to stop the warmth spreading across your cheeks.
âgood morning, martin,â you replied with a small smile of your own, glancing down at the familiar carton before looking back up at him. âthank you. this is my favorite.â
a quiet laugh escaped him. âi know.â he said.
you blinked, confused.
âitâs all you ever get.â
for a second, you simply stared at him. âyou noticed?â you asked before you could stop yourself.
martin nodded so naturally that it almost made the answer seem obvious. âyeah,â he replied. âi told you iâve noticed you around before.â
he said it so casually, as though it was the most normal thing in the world, but the words echoed inside your head far louder than they probably should have. before you could think of anything to say back, he gave you one last smile, lifted a hand in a small wave, and turned to head deeper into the building.
once again, you found yourself watching him walk away.
your fingers tightened slightly around the cold carton of chocolate milk as your eyes followed him until he disappeared around the corner, and only then did you finally remember that you were supposed to be heading to practice too.
for some reason, despite only sleeping three hours, you suddenly did not feel quite as tired anymore.
the days that followed somehow became the easiest they had been since you joined hybe. your schedule was still exhausting, your muscles still ached every night, and you were still surviving on far less sleep than any normal person should, but somewhere between vocal practice, dance rehearsals, and rushing through hallways with your backpack slung over one shoulder, martin had quietly become part of your routine. the awkward silences from the elevator had slowly turned into conversations that lasted until one of you had to run off to another lesson, and before either of you realized it, calling each other friends had become the most natural thing in the world.
through martin, you also met the boys he shared a dorm with. james was quiet but funny once he got comfortable, juhoon was surprisingly easy to talk to, seonghyeon, although shy at first, had an easygoing personality that made conversations flow without much effort, and keonho somehow managed to make even the most ordinary moments entertaining.Â
they welcomed you without hesitation, treating you as though you had always been part of the group, and after spending enough time around them, you learned something that made your heart swell with excitement for all of them.
there was about a sixty percent chance that the five of them would be debuting soon. everyone seemed almost certain that if it happened, martin would end up becoming the leader.
honestly, you could understand why.
he was patient without trying to be, calm even when everyone else was stressed, and somehow always noticed when someone around him looked exhausted before they ever admitted it themselves. if anyone deserved that position, it was him.
despite spending more and more time together, one little mystery never changed.
every single night, without fail, another carton of chocolate milk would be waiting beside the metal leg of your bench.
you had started developing a very strong suspicion about who was leaving them there, especially after martin had somehow known your favorite drink without you ever telling him, but every time you considered asking him, you immediately talked yourself out of it.Â
if you were wrong, you would probably end up embarrassing yourself so badly that you would never recover, and if you were right⊠honestly you were not even sure what you would do then.
one night, after finishing another painfully cold shower in the buildingâs bathroom, you stepped back into the hallway while drying your hands on a towel. only a few minutes earlier, you had been talking to martin during the elevator ride, laughing about something james had done earlier that day before he got off on a different floor. you were about to head back toward your little corner when you suddenly heard quiet footsteps echoing down the hallway.
without really thinking, you slipped behind the wall beside the bathroom entrance and carefully peeked around the corner.
your breath caught.
it was martin.
you could only see his back as he slowly approached your bench, glancing around the empty hallway for a brief moment before reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants. he pulled something out, bent down slightly, and placed it carefully beside the familiar metal leg before taking one more quick look around to make sure nobody had seen him before he turned around and walked away.
you stayed frozen behind the wall until he disappeared completely. the second he was out of sight, you practically ran toward the bench.
your heart was pounding so loudly that it almost drowned out the sound of your own footsteps.
there it was. another carton of chocolate milk. except this time, something small was taped neatly to the front.
a folded note.
with slightly shaky fingers, you peeled it off and unfolded the paper.
i like you :)
you simply stared.
your face grew hotter by the second until you were certain it had turned bright red, and no matter how many times you reread the five tiny words, they refused to change into anything else. somehow, martin, the boy who had unknowingly occupied your thoughts since the moment those elevator doors first opened, had been secretly leaving you chocolate milk every single night.
because he liked you.
a smile slowly spread across your face before you could stop it.
carefully, as though it was the most valuable thing you owned, you folded the note back along its original crease and slipped it inside your phone case, making sure it sat securely behind the clear plastic. there was no way you were risking losing something like that.
only after checking that it was safely tucked away did you pick up the chocolate milk, push the straw through the top on your first try for once, and finish the entire carton in only a few minutes, unable to stop smiling to yourself the whole time.
the next morning, you walked into the cafeteria much earlier than usual, hoping that if you got this over with quickly, you would spend the rest of the day without constantly thinking about the folded note tucked safely inside your phone case. unfortunately, the second you stepped through the entrance, your eyes immediately landed on the exact people you had been trying to mentally prepare yourself for.
martin was sitting at one of the tables with james, juhoon, seonghyeon, and keonho, quietly eating breakfast while the others argued over something completely ridiculous. you could hear keonho laughing from the other side of the room, keonho already looking like he was about to start another debate over absolutely nothing, while james and juhoon seemed more interested in their food than whatever was happening around them.
before you could lose your nerve, you forced your feet to keep moving. the conversation at the table slowly died down as you approached.
martin looked up first.
the moment he saw you, his face softened into that familiar smile you had somehow become embarrassingly attached to over the past week. he instinctively shifted over slightly, silently expecting you to sit beside him like you had been doing almost every morning lately.
instead, you stopped beside the table. âcan we talk?â you asked.
the words came out much quieter than you had intended, which made the entire table freeze.
keonho looked between the two of you with immediate interest.
martin, meanwhile, simply smiled. âsure.â he nodded his head. he stood up without hesitation, brushing the crumbs from his sweatpants before following you away from the table.
you both walked several steps across the cafeteria until you were far enough away that nobody else should have been able to hear you.
martin stopped beside you and looked down with the same calm expression he always wore whenever you seemed nervous.
âis something wrong?â he asked, a faint crease appearing between his brows as concern slowly replaced the smile on his face.
the confidence you had spent your entire walk building immediately disappeared.
every sentence you had rehearsed during the morning vanished from your head all at once.
your palms suddenly felt sweaty.
your heart was beating so hard it almost hurt.
this had been a terrible idea.
you swallowed hard before nervously biting the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to think of literally anything to say.
âyou⊠uhâŠâ your voice faded. without meaning to, your eyes drifted back toward the table.
every single one of them was watching.
none of them were even pretending not to.
seonghyeon had leaned so far forward that he was practically halfway out of his chair. keonho looked seconds away from climbing onto the table if it meant hearing the conversation better. even juhoon and james, who were at least attempting to look casual, were very obviously listening.
absolutely not. there was no way you were confessing anything with an audience.
you looked back up at martin who was still waiting patiently, still looking at you with those soft eyes that somehow only ever seemed to appear whenever he looked your way.
you awkwardly cleared your throat. ââŠyou should pull your pants up.â
silence.
martinâs eyes widened. almost instinctively, he glanced down at himself.
his oversized sweatpants had slipped lower than he apparently realized.
behind him, you heard a loud choking sound. keonho had chocked on his drink.
james immediately pressed his lips together so tightly they were practically disappearing, while juhoon suddenly became deeply fascinated by the cafeteria floor. seonghyeon rubbed a hand over his face, clearly trying not to laugh.
martinâs ears slowly turned pink. ââŠoh.â
he awkwardly hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them up slightly, looking just embarrassed enough to make you realize how unbelievably awkward this entire situation had become.
your face immediately matched his.
what were you doing?
you had walked him all the way over here. after finding out he liked you. after planning to talk about the note.
just to tell himâŠ
to pull his pants up.
without another word, you covered your burning face with one hand, turned on your heel, and practically sprinted out of the cafeteria while the sound of seonghyeon finally bursting into laughter echoed behind you.
hi! i know i haven't been the most active on this blog, but i wanted to bring attention to this since they decided to block me đ
i do run another blog on here, @/sof1rs, which is something i didn't want to keep a "secret", but was never talked about it because of my own personal reasons.
from time to time i log onto this account just to check up on some stuff and when i did that last night, i was going through my following and saw an account i did not recognize. and when i clicked on their profile, it was a huge surprise to me that her theme was the exact same as mine!
usually, i don't really care if anyone takes inspo and gives me credit, but that was not the case this time! at first, i thought i was maybe seeing things (?) because it was 1am when this happened! but no... i found their side blog since it was linked in their navigation and saw they reblogged their pinned post (theme) and it was on july 19th, a day after i uploaded my theme on @/sof1rs!
( comparison )
( the message i sent them which resulted in them blocking me the next morning )
( them blocking me on both @/callikari and @/sof1rs! )
soon i understood that this wasn't a coincidence because: 1. they used my same exact divider, which i made. 2. they copied my tags, WORD for WORD. so i messaged them about it, and got blocked on both accounts with still no response!
âȘ you disappear hours after a concert, your family reports you missing but the company states that you left voluntarily. nothing makes sense. all anyone can ask is, where are you ?
âȘ âi fucking hate how people talk about you, acting like you weren't our best friendâ - e.m. part one.
i. ITâS JUST A SHAME, THAT'S ALL
you disappear hours after a concert, your family reports you missing but the company states that you left voluntarily. cctv shows differently. nothing makes sense, especially with everyone moving on so fast.
ii. ITâS JUST A SHAME, THATâS ALL â THROUGH THE LENS OF MARTIN
martin's seen you time and time again get smart with staff, it's no wonder that something was bound to happen, at least in his opinion.
iii. ITâS JUST A SHAME, THATâS ALL â THROUGH THE LENS OF CORTIS
continuation to part one and part two. cortis tries their best to continue living normal lives without the core part of their group. can they manage without you ?
taglist is open. i didnât include my general taglist and cortis taglist because then itâd be like four different lists but trust, you guys WILL be tagged too, donât worry.
IN WHICH â two best friends find themselves between the boarder of friendship and something greater, but one is more oblivious than the other.
idol!seonghyeon x fem!reader
àšâŻ contains: best friends to lovers âą romance âą fluff âą minimal cursing âą small kiss âą vulnerability âą seonghyeon yearning âą reader is a little dumb at first âŻà§
wc. 1564
j's corner Ë Â· . hi everyone... this is lowkkk bad and rushed but its wtv! i hope you guys like it
It seemed everyone had known but you.
The way people would smirk at you when Seonghyeon came up to you. They would smile knowingly, poke you when he was staring. Though, you just couldn't put your finger on why.
It first started when Seonghyeon and you became older. You two had grown up together, moms becoming friends in college. Seonghyeon was always a polite person, but his usually reserved attitude was different around you.
Seonghyeon found himself able to be authentically himself when he was with you. Louder, more energetic, or sometimes completely silent when he felt like it. For younger him, one thing was certain, he loved being around you.
As you two had gotten older, and he'd gotten busier, Seonghyeon found himself yearning for your presence. When you were around, he was glued to you, smiling constantly. When you weren't, he was wishing you were.
Seonghyeon had found himself talking to James, who he normally went to for advice.
"Sean, there's no way these feelings are platonic." James snorted.
"I'm not sure either..." Seonghyeon mumbles, staring down at his ramen, which was going cold. He had spent the last twenty minutes talking about how he wished you weren't on summer vacation so that he could see you.
James' eyes widen and he looks up at Seonghyeon, "Yo, you've never admitted it before. We've literally been waiting for this!"
"Don't make a big deal out of it," Seonghyeon huffs, "She probably doesn't even like me back."
"You've got to be kidding me," James shakes his head.
When you arrive home after your week long trip to Jeju Island, you hear your phone go off. Looking down, the contact name makes you smile to yourself, 'Seannnnđđ' is what it reads. You swipe open your phone to find that he's asking if you're home. You reply by telling him you are, then he leaves you on read.
Your mom laughs quietly to herself from over your shoulder. Your head wips around so fast you could almost feel the whiplash.
"Mom! Don't read my texts!" You groan
"Seonghyeon's coming over, I'm guessing?" She smiles at you, but you can tell there's a weird reason behind the smile.
"Yeah... probably." You speak, narrowing your eyes at her the tiniest bit. She smiles again and hums, nodding her head as she turns to carry her suitcase to her room. You walk to your room, with your own suitcase, already anticipating how good seeing him will feel after a bit apart.
Around half and hour later, you hear the front door open, your dad welcomes someone in. Not to quickly after, your bedroom door opens and in comes Seonghyeon with the brightest smile on his face. His arms open and you practically launch yourself into them.
"Missed you," He mumbles into your neck.
"Missed you too," you smile, pulling back after a long moment, "Help me unpack?"
He nods quickly, then walks over to the opened suitcase that is already halfway unpacked. You both fall into a harmonious rhythm that was established years ago, when you were just little kids.
Everything was so natural, and for some strange reason you felt a little sense of uneasiness in your stomach. It was a bad type, but as if you wanted something, like something between you two was missing. The worst part was that you couldn't place your finger on what it was.
A week or two later, when Seonghyeon had free time, you were at his dorm. You two were together on the couch, close enough it could pass as cuddling. You're leaned into his side while is arm is around your shoulders. The TV plays quietly as you both talk softly over it.
Footsteps sound from hallway, but both of you were oblivious to it, too satisfied in each other's presence. A figure appears from his room and spots us on the couch.
"Oh, you're here?" Martin asks cheerfully as he looks down and the two of you.
You look up at him, smiling and offering a kind wave. You had always gotten along well with Seonghyeon's members. They became a group of friends that had always managed to make you feel comfortable.
"Sean." Martin directs his attention to Seonghyeon, who looks up, "Have you told her?"
Seonghyeon's eyes widen and his face flushes a deep red. Your brows furrow deeply and you look over to Seonghyeon in confusion.
"What's he talking about?" You ask, Martin then smirks at the two of us and exits to the kitchen.
"Nothing, he's just being stupid." Seonghyeon murmurs, face still strawberry colored. You roll your eyes and look away, nodding to his words.
Seonghyeon readjusts his grip on you, pulling you closer to him. His nose is touching your hair and he secretly breathes in the scent of your shampoo. The moment becomes comforting as you relax into his touch. For a second, you swear you feel him press a kiss to your head.
A few weeks later, you're back at the dorms. This time, Sbeonghyeon isn't with you at the current minute. You're sitting in the kitchen with Keonho and Juhoon while Seonghyeon uses the bathroom. He had left his phone on the counter.
"Hey," Keonho says, looking directly at you, "How do you feel about Seonghyeon?"
Your face twists into one of confusion, "What do you mean? He's been my best friend for years."
Juhoon speaks up, "You guys are so insufferable to watch. You both clearly have something going on."
"Sorry, what?" You say, surprise floating in your tone.
"Normal friends don't act like that. C'mon, do you ever feel the need to cuddle up with us?" Keonho urges for an answer.
You look up at Keonho, open your mouth, close it, then open it again. You shake your head, face twisting into a mock disgust.
"I... No, I don't want to cuddle up with you guys! But, that's just because..." You trail off, not able to finish your answer.
Just as you open your mouth again, Seonghyeon walks into the room. His face lights back up again as he sees you. He heads straight towards you, standing behind the chair that you are sitting in.
"What did I miss?" Seonghyeon almost chirps as you sit in the chair, cheeks blushing a light pink.
"Nothing really." Juhoon chimes into the coversation.
Seonghyeon nods and then changes his direction of conversation towards you. He looks down at you softly, in a way he's never looked at anyone else, but the same way he's always looked at you.
"James told me there's a new ice cream parlor near the Han River, wanna go tonight?" Seonghyeon asks.
You look up and nod, eyes soft, "Yeah, that'd be nice."
Keonho groans and walks out of the kitchen, "So oblivious!"
Seonghyeon and you walk along the path, one of your hands intertwined with his, the other holding a mint-chip ice cream. Seonghyeon, of course made fun of you for choosing the flavor, as it is his least favorite.
"That flavor sucks ass," Seonghyeon laughs.
"Hey! Not too much on it, it's good to me" You giggle back at him.
He lets go of your hand once you two find a bench to sit on. Instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders as he continues to lick his vanilla ice cream, you lean into him.
Seonghyeon clears his throat once you both finish your ice creams, "Ahem... Can I talk to you real quick?"
"Mhm, anything." You hum, looking over to meet his eyes.
When you two make eye contact, something about the way he's looking at you is different. Or maybe it's the same, but you're finally noticing what it means. Your lips part as his open to speak up again.
"I've been feeling a certain way..." He starts, "Not for weeks, or months, I think years."
You nod, "Yeah."
He continues, "I- uhm, I really like you..."
Your eyes widen and you look at him, switching between his left and right eyes.
"Seonghyeon, I like you too." You say, so soft it could be a whisper.
His hand reaches up and his gaze drops to your lips, "Can I...?"
You nod and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. His lips are plush, soft, and warm as they move against yours slowly. He finds himself pulling back reluctantly after a long moment of being engulfed in each other's presence.
"Can I be your boyfriend, please?" He asks, his voice almost pleading.
Your smile breaks out, contagious, and you throw your arms around his shoulders in a giant hug, "Yes!"
He laughs into your shoulder, both of you so happy your hearts could burst.
You two walk through the dorm entrance beaming with joy and laughing together, still holding hands. Actually, ever since he'd asked, Seonghyeon could not let go of you.
"I take it went well?" James' voice sounds from the living room. Your brows crease together as you glance at Seonghyeon, who nods.
"So well." He mumbles before smiling at you. He guides you to hang out in his room for a while before your mom came to get you. You throw questions his way about how James knew, who else knew, and even how he planned it out.
As you question him endlessly, Seonghyeon really sits on the fact that he'd rather be in no other place than this.
synopsis : keonho is usually the clingy one in the relationship but you can't help but crave for his attention late at night after not acknowledging you.
masterlist đৠkeonho x đŻemale reader established relationship clingy!reader teenage love pure fluff skinship kissing drabble
silence in the room spoke high volumes â well besides the blasting audio from keonho's phone of a youtube video and the occasional murmurs from outside the bedroom from the other boys.
other than that, to you the room was annoyingly silent but heavily relaxing. the lamp was set to a yellow dim, the fan placed on the bedside table created a sound that could make you fall asleep within in seconds, and the warmth of the hoodie you borrowed from keonho made you have a feeling that isn't usually you.
your body was practically melted on his bed, the covers came on and off of you every few minutes. you kicked it dramatically with a heave of a sigh when it felt too hot, you grumpily sat up just to grab the blankets once again, falling back down onto the mattress dramatically â and keonho didn't budge nor complain the whole time, clearly engraved into his phone.
you looked over at him for the thousandth time. none of your actions were intentional for him to notice you, but you knew that him not acknowledging you for the past hour was making you upset.
he laid above the two sets of blankets, with his left arm nested beneath the back of the head and his right hand gripping onto the phone. his eyes were locked onto the blasting bright video that didn't fit the environment of the warm, cozy, and slightly annoying room.
his hood was on, looking so relaxed as ever, as you caught the slight purse of his lips he had due to his focusing. his hair was slightly messy from underneath the hood, as the collar of the hoodie was rested comfortably onto his chin. and unfortunately, you thought he looked so cute.
you rolled your eyes, turning your head to look at the blank beige wall, forming a pout of your own onto your lips.
you brought your foot up to the wall for the sake of your entertainment and your boredom, sliding it side to side onto the cold wall, creating loud, harsh sounds throughout the room.
and keonho still didn't budge. at this point, every deep sigh, every loud shuffling of the sheets you had made, every big movement you made with sitting up and dramatically falling back down, the occasional glances at him, and the whole foot on the wall â it all felt intentional and he still hadn't brought a single, simple glance towards you.
you wanted to speak, you wanted to complain, you wanted to let out a remark of your failure within the relationship and that he's ignoring you for a reason â just to simply get his attention. but you didn't, nor did you want to. you wanted his attention through his spite and not by your own.
your foot fell harshly onto the bed, creating a loud ruffled sound against the blanket, causing your foot to slightly bounce from the impact. you rushed to shuffle onto your side, laying your head on both palms of your hands, now staring at his side profile.
he remained relaxed, and unsurprisingly in the same position as when you last looked at him. was he in a whole new world that he can't even smile or peek at his annoyed girlfriend ? what was so special about the youtube video he was watching.
your gaze stilled on him, clearly with beg and fury. your pout was still heavy on your lips. you tried to get your mind to connect to his so he could feel your stare onto him, just to make simple eye contact. you needed something; his touch on you, his eyes on you, the gentle smile he always makes towards you â his whole attention is what you begged for.
but nothing worked.
you closed your eyes, shoving your face deep into your palms as you groaned â and this groan had intention behind it. you stayed deep into your hands, eyes ready to hear a shuffle from him. but nothing was heard beside the annoying audio. you peeked from your hands, eyeing keonho, and still had not budged.
you took matters into your own hands. you were tired of relaxing with nothing held against you, nothing fullfilling your needs. your phone was charging in the kitchen, leaving you to lay with nothing. it was like this whole time keonho was bragging that his phone was charged and actually had something to do. and to make things worse, your own boyfriend didn't even bother with you for the past hour.
you scooted closer to him until your side met the side of his body. you rested your cheek on his shoulder, draping your arm across his chest, as well as draping your leg over his waist. you held on so tightly, that it made you feel butterflies that you felt like you hadn't had in awhile.
you let out a breath, a breath that screamed success simply because you had him.
you watched his screen, not really caring with the video. your pout was still on your lips, but the heaviness of it died down. your breathing became ragged and your heart started rapidly beating. you were so sure that he could feel it on his side.
you nested your cheek deeper into his neck line, the top of your head almost butting his cheek. within that movement, he brought his arm from underneath his head and wrapped it around your back, his hand resting on your shoulder blade.
you let out a smile, it was finally working for you and you loved every second of it.
but that simple touch wasn't enough. where was the head and forehead kisses he gave you every cuddle session. why wasn't his hand reaching towards your chin to bring your face up and plant a teasing kiss on the side of your mouth and then finally a real one on your lips.
it made you slightly angry that he wasn't being his usually clingy self and you knew it had to be a tease. this wasn't the keonho you knew. you always had him hooked around your finger, his attention was always on you.
your eyebrows furrowed from the thought. you looked away from the screen and onto the furniture that was set on the other side of the room. though your touch remained tight and lovingly on his body, he sure can't tell what you're feeling right now since your touch didn't reason with your expression.
you looked up at him, your faces so close to each other it made you even eager.
you did something you didn't want to do, something you fought against earlier but it came out so unexpectedly.
"keonho." you whined out quietly. the furrow of your eyebrows came neutral, but your eyes dreamed with hope, and the same pout that screamed begging came back.
he hummed, still not glancing down at you.
you wanted to let out a smile as he finally acknowledged your presence â but at what cost. you hummed back sadly, resting your cheek back down deep into his neck.
you closed your eyes, trying to atleast fall asleep to by pass the internal pain your indulging â the hurt he had caused you. now you understand him and his feelings whenever you pushed him away at times when he just wanted to simply be attached to his girlfriend. it was most likely pay back.
but the clinginess in your body didn't let you rest. the eager that sat in your body wanted you to go all out and try to get back at him. this was not you, you tried to relax your mind to hold yourself back. but clearly your actions won over.
your eyes opened, meeting with the layer of clothing in front of you that covered your first spot. you slightly brought your head up, bringing your fingers to the side of the hood, pushing it back a little to expose the skin of the crook of his neck.
you pushed yourself deeper towards it. your lips rested right above the skin, clearly teasing as you smiled at your actions.
you placed light kisses on it ; just an easy one, two, three times, then resting your cheek back onto his shoulder, your arm casually going back to clinging around his chest.
you felt the way his head leaned slightly back at your touch. he let out a deep breath, clearly affected by the gesture, but his composure remained calm.
you rolled your eyes, as you brought your stare back on the video as your expression turned into pure grump once again.
but you didn't bother to wait any longer or let this go on for much longer than you anticipated.
your head was brought back up from his shoulder, as your eyes locked onto his. he could clearly see you from his peripheral vision, but it's like he wanted to see your next move.
you brought your hand to his chin, stabilizing it as you leaned down quickly pecking the corner of his lips â an action he always does, that you now caught on yourself.
you didn't bother to bring your gaze back up to his face, so you planted a kiss fully on his lips now â multiple in fact. the first one your lips stilled on his own for a bit, then letting go to place small easy ones. you then brought it to his cheek, pecking a bunch around that one area.
and that finally won him over.
he let out a smile, alongside with a string of giggles. he turned his head away from you, but it only brought you closer, still kissing his cheek.
he closed his eyes, his head shifting back to normal but instead he turned over to you, his lips catching your own this time.
he placed his phone down on his waist, shutting it off, as he brought his hand up to your cheek to hold your lips against his. you hummed against his lips at the harsh pressure, forcefully pulling away with a huge smile written on your face now.
the butterflies in your stomach grew louder and made your breath hitch every few seconds. the action, his smile, his touch, his kiss was all you asked for and you finally got it. you had him right where you wanted him to be.
"you're so clingy now." he lowly remarked, his hand still placed onto your cheek as he scanned your face, his eyes dropping to your lips once a while.
"you weren't acknowledging me." you let out a breathy laugh, sadness laced in your voice, as your eyes dropped back down to his lips as well.
he hummed, dragging his thumb across your cheek, this time fully locking his gaze onto your mouth, "now i am."
you guys remained like that for a little bit, indulging in each others beauty. hearts stammered with nerves and affection, as your touch lingered with heat and warmth.
you couldn't help but chuckle nervously at his intense gaze, almost wanting to look away and hide yourself in a hurdle, but it's almost like he caught on and he didn't want you going anywhere.
he brought your face closer to a proper, real kiss. the hand that rested casually on his other shoulder blade snuck up to the back of his neck, getting comfortable with the kiss.
"look who's the clingy one now." he murmured against your lips, pure tease in his tone. "shut up." you replied back in a whisper, as a smile formed on your lips while still meeting with his.
you two where right where you wanted to be. at peace, in love, no distractions, and lost in the moment. good to know that there's no losing each other after that.
ness ËËË i'm cheating on juhoon right now so here's this :)
SYNOPSIS â in which you wonât stop texting the gc about the fine senior that left.
pairing bsf!cortis x reader
warnings purely crack smau,cursing, reader is into James(âintoâ is an understatement), Keonho is a menace, reader is embarrassing
notes ! This was requested and Iâm so happy that a platonic Cortis,crack smau was what an anon wanted cus cortis give bsf vibes smmmđ. Also this is only part 1, I literally did the whole thing but tumblr only allows 30 images so Iâm gonna have to split it up!feel free to request what you want next!
You took a four-month hiatus to save your career after your breakup with Riki caused a huge scandal. When you finally return, the company has the two of you record a dance video together.
pairing: idol!exbf!riki x idol!reader â
contains: fluff skinship kissing light angst cyber bullying rumors hate comments kpop scandal breakup arguing riki's a flirt đ§
âč
@ idolsdaily
đš ENHYPEN's Ni-ki and REPLAY's Y/n caught fighting outside HYBE.
The two idols were seen having a heated argument outside the HYBE building today before Y/n appeared to push Ni-ki in the chest. Witnesses say the argument lasted several minutes before they walked away separately.
[đ„Â Video attached]
You take a deep breath before pushing open the door of the practice room.
Music hums quietly from the speakers, Riki's phone is charging in the corner, water bottles are scattered across the floor. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Riki looks up.
His footsteps are heavy against the wooden floor as he walks straight toward you. One hand drags through his hair, pushing it back out of his face, bracelets sliding down his wrist and clinking softly with every step.
He's dressed exactly how you'd expect him to be, oversized sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a black hoodie with the zipper halfway down over a white tank top, silver jewellery around his neck, on his wrists and in his ears.
A smile spreads across his face before he's even reached you.
"There she is."
Without thinking twice, he opens his arms for a hug.
You hesitate for half a second. Then you step forward just enough to give him a quick side hug, one arm patting his back once before immediately pulling away.
"Hi."
The smile leaves his face almost as quickly as it came.
"...Hey."
You don't linger, you walk past him toward the corner of the room where his black duffel bag is already thrown on the floor. You quietly set yours beside it, unzip it to grab your water bottle, then sit down on the floor, keeping a comfortable amount of distance between the chair he was on and yourself.
Riki slowly walks back too. He drops into the chair with a sigh, legs spread, leaning back so far it almost looks ridiculous. One arm hangs over the backrest while the other absentmindedly taps against his thigh.
The silence feels unfamiliar, there used to be a time when the two of you couldn't stop talking. Now even finding the first sentence feels awkward.
He clears his throat. "So..."
His eyes flick toward you. "How've you been?"
You look up from unscrewing your water bottle. "Good."
"...Good?"
"Yeah ...You?"
"I'm alright."
âÂ
Four months ago, this room would've sounded completely different.
You would've stolen his chair before he got to it. He would've complained while trying to pull you onto his lap anyway. You would've argued over which song to warm up with, flirted your way through practice, shared snacks during breaks, and left to his dorm after.
You had dated for a year.
A year full of arguments about stupid things.
Who forgot to text back, who cancelled plans because of practice, who was too lazy, who didn't listen. The little fights started happening so much they stopped feeling little.
When you finally broke up with him, the company immediately stepped in.
"Due to increasingly busy schedules, the idols have decided to end their relationship by mutual agreement and focus on their personal careers.â
It would've worked if nobody had seen the argument.
Someone had filmed the two of you outside the HYBE building after a rehearsal. The video only lasted twelve seconds, but it changed everything.
You raising your voice, Riki slamming the door in frustration. You giving his chest one small shove to get past him. It wasn't violent, it barely moved him.Â
But online, rumours and theories spread faster than ever.
"She hit him!"
"He's controlling."
"Ew they're so toxic."
âGet rid of both of them!â
"Enhypen and Replay definitely hate each other."
Every livestream theyâd bring it up. Every airport appearance theyâd call you out.Â
Your anxiety got so bad you stopped sleeping.
Eventually, you were completely removed from the schedules by the company. Mostly for your mental health, but it was also to let the scandal die before it dragged down not only you, but Replay, Enhypen, and HYBE itself.
â
For Riki, the past four months had been strange.
Not nearly as hard as they were for you, but nowhere near as easy as they should've been either.
The first few weeks after the breakup, he was just angry. Angry that you'd broken up with him. Angry that one stupid argument had somehow turned into the biggest scandal either of your groups had ever dealt with. Angry that everything had spiraled over something that should've stayed between the two of you.
So he did what every stubborn twenty-year-old guy does when his heart gets broken.
He blocked you. Your number, your private Instagram, he blocked Replay on Spotify and removed you from all your shared playlists. Anything that had your name attached to it disappeared from his phone within minutes.
If someone mentioned your group backstage, he'd quietly leave the conversation. Whenever your name somehow came up during interviews or variety content, he'd pretend not to hear it.
He was convinced the easiest way to get over you was to act like you didn't exist.
It didn't work.
Then the company announced your hiatus.
At first he thought it'd only be for a week or two, maybe until things calmed down online. But you disappeared completely.
During those long, quiet months, his anger slowly started fading. Because the more he replayed that argument in his head, the more he realized he couldn't keep blaming only you.
Yeah, you pushed his chest. Barely.Â
But he was the one who kept following you outside, he was the one who wouldn't let the argument end. He kept provoking you, throwing little comments your way because he was frustrated and wanted the last word.
Neither of you had noticed someone recording. Neither of you wanted the internet to twist twelve seconds into an entire theory.
It wasn't your fault that someone happened to have their phone pointed at you two. And it definitely wasn't your fault that millions of people decided they knew exactly what your relationship had was like.
The anger turned into guilt quickly. Especially every time he made the mistake of opening comments.
"Kick Y/N out of Replay."
"She pushed him. I don't care if it was 'lightly.'"
"Poor Ni-ki deserves better."
"She's only crying because she got caught."
"Hope her hiatus becomes permanent."
"Blink twice if HYBE is forcing you to defend her."
He hated reading it. One afternoon he'd gotten so frustrated that he marched straight to his manager.
"People need to stop this."
The manager looked up from his laptop. "We're handling it."
"No, you're not. She barely touched me."
"We know."
"Then why aren't you saying anything?"
"Because responding will only make the situation bigger."
His jaw clenched. "They're tearing her apart."
"We understand."
The room fell quiet, the manager sighed. "Ni-ki."
He already knew he wasn't going to like whatever came next.
"Do not say anything publicly. Not on Weverse. Not on live. Not during interviews. Nowhere."
He stared at him in disbelief. "She's getting hated every single day."
"And if you speak up, people will start talking again."
"But she doesn't deserveâ"
"I know. But the best thing you can do for y/n right now... is let the situation die."
He hated that answer. He wanted to tell everyone that you'd never hurt him and that the fight had been both of your faults.
But all he could do was wait. Wait for the hate to die down, or for the day he'd finally get to see you again, he even wasnât sure what he was waiting for.
Finally, around the third month, something slowly started to change.
People got bored. New scandals happened, new rumors started, people actually began looking back at the original clip instead of just repeating what everyone else had been saying. The comments slowly became less hateful.
"That's the push everyone's talking about? She literally barely touched him."
"We don't even know what happened before."
"Ni-ki was yelling at her too."
"This was obviously just a couple arguing. Why is everyone acting like she's some criminal?
"Y'all ruined a girl's career over THIS?"
Edits started appearing, slowing the video down, circling details people hadn't noticed before.
"Ni-kiâs still walking towards her after she pushes him."
"She looks more upset than angry."
"We judged Y/N way too quickly."
"Bring her back already."
"She served a four month hiatus over a tiny shove??"
"Free Y/N."
"Replay doesn't feel complete without her. We miss our main dancer :("
The company went back and forth behind closed doors.
Managers from met with Riki several times to discuss how contact between you and him should go if you came back.
Emails were constantly being exchanged with Replayâs management. Rules were made. No interviews about the breakup, no public interaction unless approved, no mentioning the scandal. No dating rumors. Just move on.
Four months of no performances, no interviews, no seeing Riki.
And now, only a week after your return, management had decided the best possible way to prove to the public that there were no hard feelingsâŠÂ was to lock the two of you in a dance practice room and have you film a dance collaboration.
"Show the public you two are fine."
â
You walk over to one side of the mirrored wall, setting your phone and water bottle on the floor before sitting down to stretch. One leg folded underneath you while the other extends out, your fingertips reaching toward your shoe.
Then Riki clears his throat. He isnât looking at you anymore, his elbows rest on his knees as he stares at the floor.
"...I'm really sorry about everything. You didn't deserve any of th-â
You stop stretching for a second and cut him off.
"Don't worry about it."
He looks up. âIâm serious y/n⊠I wish we h-â
You offer him a small smile. "I'm back now. I'm fine."
"...Mhm." Thatâs all he manages to say. "Okay."
The silence immediately returns and it feels painfully awkward, so you decide to fill it.
"You changed your hair."
He instinctively runs a hand through it, the bracelets around his wrist softly clinking together.
"Oh." A small grin appeared. "Yeah."
The last time you saw him it was long and blonde, now its shorter and darker, kind of brown-ish.
He ruffles it again before looking back at you and his smile becomes a little more nervous.
"You like it?"
You look at him for a second. Then simply shrug one shoulder and give him a small nod, nothing too much.
"...Yeah."
He smiles. "Thank you."
Before the conversation could awkwardly die again, you push yourself off the floor, dust off your sweatpants and walk towards the center of the practice room. You glance at the huge mirror in front of you before looking over your shoulder at him.
You clapped your hands together once.
"Shall we start?"
The first hour of practice was very quiet. The only thing filling the room was the song over and over. The same thirty seconds replayed until you got every single step perfect.
Neither of you talked unless it was necessary.
"Five, six, seven, eight."
"Again."
"You were half a count late."
"My bad."
"Let's go."
That was it. Just mirrors, sweat, music and counting.
The choreography itself wasn't difficult, it was just precise. Every step had to land at exactly the same moment. You were both main dancers for a reason.
After almost an hour, Riki suddenly stops moving.
"Nah..."
He exhales sharply, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. "It's hot as hell in here."
He walks toward the chair in the corner. His hoodie comes off in one smooth motion before he throws it over the backrest, leaving only the black tank top underneath. Silver chains rest against his collarbones, his hair already sticking slightly to his forehead from sweat.
He walks over to the air conditioning unit on the wall and presses the temperature down a few degrees.
"There." He sighed in satisfaction. "Way better."
Walking back toward the speaker, he presses play again and looks at you through the mirror.
"Ready?"
You nod and he counts. "Five... six... seven... eight."
You both move at the exact same time. Your bodies slip into the choreography automatically. Muscle memory, years of training.
You catch your own reflection, then his. Your eyes stay there longer than they should.
It feels strange. Four months without seeing each other, pure silence, convincing yourself everything between you had changed.
Yet somehow, the moment the music starts, your bodies still move together like they always had. Every turn and step matched. The realization made something tighten in your chest.
You miss a count, your eyes still on his reflection instead of your own.
"...Wait."
You stop dancing.
"Can we stop for a sec?"
Riki immediately reaches over and pauses the music.
"What happened?"
You rub the back of your neck.
"This part..." You look at your feet. "I can't get the footwork right."
He looked down for a second before nodding.
"Oh. It's..."
He steps into position and demonstrates it slowly.
"This foot first. And then your weight goes here."
He repeats it again.
"You keep putting your weight on the wrong leg."
You watch carefully. "Oh..."
"See?"
He does it one last time. "It's easier if you don't think about your upper body yet."
You copy him. "...Like this?"
"Almost."
He steps closer and points at your foot. âNo, this one.â
You adjust it.
"Yeah." He smiled. "That's it."
âOkay.â You laughed quietly. âThank you.â
He nods and walks back to his spot.
"Again?"
The music starts. This time you made it a little further. Thenâ
"Wait. Sorry." You frowned. "Again."
Riki didn't complain. "Okay."
You got through the first half, then stumbled.
"...Stop for a sec."
Click. The music stops.
"My bad."
Again, and again, and again. By the fifth restart, you let out a frustrated groan.
"Can we do it one more time?"
Riki clicks his tongue. "Y/N. You were fine."
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"I messed up."
"It wasn't noticeable."
"It was to me."
He sighed through his nose. "Just keep going."
"We're filming this."
"I know."
"So I want it right."
"It is right."
You roll your eyes before walking straight past him towards the speaker and stop the music.
Riki closes his eyes for a second, dragging a hand down his face before rubbing the back of his neck.
"...Seriously?"
"I wanna try again."
He looks at you for a long second before letting out another sigh.
"Y/N."
You don't look at him. He lets out a small sigh. "You're stressing yourself out too much."
Your hand stays on the speaker, waiting for him to continue.
"It's just a dance challenge."
The words hit a nerve instantly. You slowly turn around.
"âŠTo you, maybe."
Riki frowns.
You laugh once. "To you, it's just a dance challenge."
"For me?" You gesture around the practice room. "This is my first appearance after disappearing for months. My first time people are gonna see me again."
You shake your head. "If I mess this up once, they'll tear me apart again. They'll say I lost my skills, and that I shouldn't have come back."
You look him straight in the eyes.
"So no, itâs not just a dance challenge. I have to do this perfectly."
Then you quietly add,
"And it doesn't exactly help that they paired me up with you."
His eyebrows pull together immediately.
"...What's that supposed to mean?"
You scoff. "Come on, seriously? You wanna act like nothing happened?"
His jaw tightens. "Oh, iâm not the one acting, y/n."
"No?"
"No." He takes a step closer. "You're the one acting. And a great fucking actress you are."
Your jaw drops and you scoff, ready to fire something back but he cuts you off before you can.
"I literally apologized the second you walked in, but you cut me off. I tried talking about it, you cut me off again."
You fold your arms. "I don't need your apology. It's not like you gave a shit before."
His head snaps up. "Don't say that."
"Why?"
"Because it's not true."
You scoff. "You don't know half the shit I've been through these past months."
"I know enough."
"No, you don't."
"I do." He runs an irritated hand through his hair. "I talked to the managers."
You let out a sarcastic laugh. "Sure."
"I did. They wouldn't let me contact you."
"Oh please. Donât lie to me. You blocked me on everything!" The words echo through the room.
Riki exhales sharply.
"Come on y/n. I blocked you right after we broke up, i was angry. I know it was childish, but I was pissed."
You shake your head in disbelief. "And after that? You could've unblocked me? You could've texted, you could've asked if I was okay."
"I wasn't allowed."
"Bullshit."
His voice rises. "I argued with management! I told them you didn't deserve the hate, I told them you barely even fucking touched me! They told me to stay out of it because it'd make everything worse!"
You stare at him. You hesitate, then you look away again.
"Whatever, Ni-ki."
His expression changes immediately. "Don't."
You frown. "What?"
"Don't call me that."
His voice is lower now. "It's Riki to you."
You raise an eyebrow. "Is it?"
He says nothing. You give a bitter little smile. "We're coworkers now. You said it yourself."
"This is work. So professionally..." You shrug. "You're Ni-ki."
He clenches his jaw. "I hate it when you call me that."
You give him one last glance. "Let's just get this over with."
Five, six, seven, eight.
You start again. The choreography you've already repeated dozens of times, but everything is off.
Your heart isn't in it anymore. Your mind keeps replaying the argument. The counts blur together, you miss another step, ignore it, keep going.
Riki notices you're a fraction behind, but he doesn't say anything. He just adjusts without thinking, like he always used to.
You reach the chorus. Turn, stepâ A sharp pain suddenly shoots through your calf.
"Ah!"
You immediately stop moving, grabbing the back of your leg. You sink down onto the wooden floor with a groan.
"Shit..."
The music is off instantly, Riki is already halfway across the room.
"What happened?" He crouches down in front of you. "You okay?"
You squeeze your eyes shut, both hands gripping your calf.
"...Yeah." A pained exhale leaves you. "I'm fine."
Another cramp shoots through the muscle. "...Fuck."
He watches you rubbing desperately at the back of your leg. "I told you you're stressing yourself out too much. We should've taken a break."
You shake your head. "It's just..." You wince again. "...a cramp."
He nods toward your leg. "Can you stand?"
"I think so." You plant one foot on the floor, but the second you put weight on itâ
"...Ow." You wince.
Riki immediately reaches toward you. He slips one arm around your back and another underneath your arm. "Lean on me."
You hesitate, then reluctantly let him help you up. The moment your foot touches the floor again, another sting shoots through your calf.
You hiss through your teeth. "I think... I think I strained something."
"Easy." His hand automatically settles against your waist to steady you. "Don't rush."
The two of you slowly make your way toward the corner of the practice room.
He helps you lower yourself onto the floor before sitting beside you with a quiet sigh. You keep kneading your calf with both hands in silence, hoping the muscle will finally relax.
Beside you, Riki twists open his water bottle and the plastic crackles. He takes a long drink before glancing sideways at you.
"...Want me to massage it?"
You don't even look up. "No. Itâs just a cramp."
"I know."
"I'll be fine."
He shakes his head and chuckles quietly. "Câmon.. I'm not asking to kiss you or something."
The joke slips out suddenly.Â
Your hands stop moving and your eyes immediately lift to his. Neither of you says anything, you just look at each other.
You quickly clear your throat and look back at your leg.
"...Fine." A quiet sigh leaves you. "Go ahead."
He puts his water bottle down.
"Give me your leg."
You slide it a little closer. Carefully, he rolls your grey sweatpants up to just below your knee, exposing your calf.
His fingers wrap gently around the muscle. "Tell me if it hurts."
"It already hurts."
Then he starts slowly massaging the tight muscle between both his hands. His hands are warm and soft on your skin, and it feels stupidly familiar.
He continues massaging your calf in silence, the music paused, the only sounds coming from the air conditioner humming above you and Riki's hands slowly working the tension out of your calf.
The pain has already eased a little. You watch his hands for a moment before quietly speaking.
"...I'm sorry."
He looks up. "Hm?"
"For earlier."
You fiddle with the ring on your middle finger. "I kinda snapped at you."
A small, awkward laugh leaves you. "I... didn't know you actually tried talking to the managers."
Rikiâs hands don't stop moving. He shakes his head. "It's okay."
He smiles faintly. "You couldn't have known."
He shrugs one shoulder. "I wasn't exactly able to tell you."
You let out a slow breath. "I still shouldn't have said all that."
He looks at you for a second before returning his attention to your calf.
"I said things too."
"Yeah, you did."
"...Iâm sorry."
You smile despite yourself and the tension between you eases just a little.
Neither of you notices that his massage has slowly changed. Heâs not massaging anymore, his fingertips drift lazily over your leg instead, tracing slow lines against your skin while the conversation continues. He's not even thinking about it, neither are you.
His eyes stay on your leg for a second before quietly saying,
"...I never wanted our relationship to end."
Your smile fades a little.
He lets out a breathy laugh. "You really broke my heart."
He says it almost jokingly, smiling as he looks up at you. You meet his eyes. You smile, but guilt still sneaks onto your face.
"I'm sorry⊠I think." You look down at your hands with a faint smile.
He watches you for a moment before giving a small shrug.
"Learned our lesson."
You nod slowly. You look at each other for a little, Riki is the first to break the silence.
He gives your leg two light pats.
"There. You good now?"
You gently flex your ankle. The pain is almost gone.
"...Mostly."
You lean back against the mirror with a sigh.
"I wanna sit for another few minutes, okay?"
He nods. "No problem."
Pushing himself up from the floor, he grabs his water bottle and takes another sip.
"I'll keep practicing."
Still smiling to himself, he walks back toward the center of the practice room. You stay seated on the floor when he walks away.
Your calf still aches a little, so you keep absent-mindedly rubbing circles into the muscle while scrolling through your phone with your other hand. Every now and then you take another bite of your protein bar.
The room fills with music again. Your eyes keep drifting away from your phone, to Riki. At first it's just quick glances, checking how far he is into the choreography.
Eventually you stop pretending heâs not all you want to look at. Your phone rests forgotten in your lap, you simply watch him. He hasn't changed, he's still ridiculously good.
Every movement is so clean it looks effortless. His shoulders roll smoothly, the muscles in his arms flex every time he throws them through the air. His footwork is still stupidly precise, and the little expressions he makes while dancing, his brows pulling together, the tiny smirk whenever he nails something, the way he'd mouth the lyrics without realizing it.Â
You recognize it all. You had just forgotten how much fun he was to watch.
Riki notices just in the corner of his eye. His heart immediately starts beating a little faster.Â
Without meaning to, He puts more energy into every detail. Because a part of him still wants to impress you, maybe then youâll remember why you liked him.
When the song finishes, he lets out an exaggerated groan.
"Fuck..."
He bends over dramatically, hands on his knees, breathing way louder than necessary.
"This shitâs exhausting."
You don't even look up from your phone this time.
"Mhm."
He shoots you a look. He sighs like the world is ending before standing back up.
"I'm dying over here."
"You'll survive."
"I don't know..."
He says before grabbing the hem of his tank top.
"So hot."
He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the bottom of it, lifting the fabric high enough to reveal toned abs, the dark tattoo stretching along his side⊠and just above the waistband of his sweatpants, the tiny kiss tattoo, your lips, sitting on his V-line.Â
You see it. Riki glances down before looking back at you with the tiniest grin.
You grab your empty water bottle.Â
"You're embarrassing yourself."Â You say, then you throw the bottle at him.
He catches it against his chest with both hands.
"But you gotta admitâŠ"
He tilts his head.
"âŠyou missed seeing this a little"
You look at him with a stale face for a second before looking back at your phone. Youâre not admitting that.Â
Riki shakes his head to himself, still smiling, before tossing your water bottle into the bin beside the mirror.
"Come on."
He walks over to you with that stupid smug grin that always means he's about to annoy you.
Stopping right in front of where you're sitting, he holds both hands out toward you.
"Ready?"
You glance up at him.
"Last run." He wiggles his fingers. "Let's go."
You stare at his hands for a second before waving them away.
"I can get up myself."
He clicks his tongue. He motions with his fingers again.
You look up at him with the most stubborn expression you can manage. He stares right back. You sigh loudly and place your hands in his.
The second your fingers wrap around his, he pulls. He pulls harder than neccesary which makes you lose your balance immediately. Stumbling forward, bumping straight into his chest. He catches you by your forearms to stop you from falling against completely.
His grin is impossible to ignore.
"My bad."
He doesn't sound sorry whatsoever. You narrow your eyes.
"I slightly underestimated my strength."
"Mhm."
You poke a finger against the middle of his chest. He looks down at your finger and then back at you.
"I know what youâre doing Riki, youâre not slick. And itâs time to stop."
You walk past him toward the center of the room. He follows, and the music starts. The choreography goes amazingly well now that youâve taken a break, and the tension between you has eased up.
When music finally cuts off you both stay where you are for a few seconds, breathing hard, hands on your hips.
You wipe the sweat from your forehead before looking at him. "...We did it."
Riki lets out a breathy laugh. He lifts both hands and you slap both palms against his.
Instead of letting go, though, his fingers immediately slide between yours. He interlocks your fingers and gently pulls you a step closer.
You're close enough now that you can see the sweat clinging to the strands of hair on his forehead.
He smiles. "You did really good." He sounds genuine this time.
You can't help smiling back. "So did you."
His grin grows.
"So..." He tilts his head. "Can I get a kiss as a reward?"
You immediately giggle. "No."
He doesn't let go.Â
"Hm. How about..." He pretends to think. "...an 'I missed you' kiss?"
"No."
"'Welcome back' kiss?"
You shake your head, still smiling. "Nope."
"You sure?"
"Mhm."
"You don't even wanna think about it?"
"No. Ni-ki.â
He chuckles under his breath. âDonât call me that.â
You gently press a hand against his chest and push him back to break the moment.
"Greedy."
"I had to try."
You shake your head with another laugh before turning away.
"I'm getting my bag."
He watches you walk toward the corner of the room.
He smiles to himself. He walks over to his own bag, stuffing his charger, water bottle and headphones inside before pulling his hoodie back over his head. You zip up your duffel bag at the same time.
The two of you walk toward the door together.
You grab the handle first and pull it open. Then... you stop. Riki almost walks into your back.
You glance into the hallway and hesitate. Without saying anything, you slowly pull the door shut again.
Riki raises an eyebrow. "What?"
"You should come out after me."
"...Why?"
"So people don't start talking."
He looks at you for a second before giving a tiny shrug.
"They're gonna know we did the collab anyway."
"I know."
"So?"
"I just..." You sigh. "I don't want people making up stuff again."
He studies your face, then quietly says, "...I don't really care."
"I do."
You point at him.
"At least put your hood up."
He lets out a small laugh. "Y/n.. Itâll be okay."
You slowly open the door again and you both step into the hallway.
For a few seconds you walk side by side in silence. Then you glance over and his hood is still down.
You let out an annoyed sigh. "Riki, just..."
You reach up and fingers catch the edge of his hood and gently pull it over his hair.
Riki looks down at you and a quiet chuckle escapes him. He leaves the hood on.
You reach the lobby and the evening sun shines through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. A few staff members walk past outside, and a security guard stands near the doors, barely paying attention.
You're only a few steps away from the exit when Riki suddenly catches your wrist.
"Y/n."
Before you can react, he gently tugs you sideways.
"What are you doing?"
He guides you around the corner beside the entrance, where one of the concrete pillars blocks you from most of the lobby.
"Riki," you whisper, laughing nervously. "What are you doing?"
He plants one hand against the wall beside your head, then he peeks around the corner toward the glass doors like he's checking something.
His lips slowly curl into a smile. You immediately recognize that smile.
"Riki weâre-"
He chuckles. "Kiss me."
You stare at him. "What?"
"Just one." He shrugs like he's asking for a sip of your drink. "One kiss."
You immediately start laughing, but panic creeps into your voice too.
"Are you serious? Thereâs windows everywhere."
"I know."Â
He reaches up and pulls his hood down himself, fixing his hair with one hand.
You stare at him, he just smiles.
"Come on."
"No."
"Y/n."
"Riki, seriouslyâ"
"One."
"RikiâŠâ
He tilts his head.
"Please."
You sigh, smile and stop protesting. He takes it as a yes.
He immediately cups your face with one hand. His thumb brushes your cheek once and then he leans in.
The kiss only lasts a few seconds. Quick enough that anyone looking away for a moment would miss it, but knowing your fans, they wonât miss something like this.
And itâs exactly what he wants.
He wants people to see. He wants someone across the street to recognize him, he wants the blurry slowed down videos. He wants the dating rumors, the reporters asking about you, wondering if you're together again.
He wants a chance to have you back.
@ idolsdaily
đš ENHYPEN's Ni-ki and REPLAY's Y/n caught kissing inside HYBE after her hiatus.
Just one week after REPLAY's Y/n returned from her four-month hiatus, fans claim they spotted Ni-ki (ENHYPEN) and Y/n sharing what looked like a kiss inside the HYBE building.
The sighting comes shortly after HYBE announced a dance collaboration between the two idols.
Neither HYBE, BELIFT LAB, nor REPLAY's management has commented.
Hear me out⊠a fic about frat martin đđđđ
FRAT!MARTIN áŻâ ËËË
Fratboy!martin x Reader
áŻâ ËËË Summary âââ frat!martin but heâs in fact still a looser down bad for you
. áŻâ ËËË Content tags âââ college au · best friendâs brother trope · banter · kissing · heavy eye contact
áŻâ ËËË Authorâs note âââ whoever you are, i hope youâll love it boo
The bass thumped through the floorboards like a second heartbeat, vibrating up through your heels and settling somewhere in your ribs. You could feel the party before you could see it. Red Solo cups littered the walkway, bodies pressed against bodies in the living room, and that ever-present fog of sweat and body spray that seemed to follow Stella's house like a shadow.
"There you are!" Stella grabbed your wrist, her acrylics clicking against your skin, pulling you through the kitchen threshold. Her blonde hair, dyed the same honeyed shade as her brother's, caught the strobe lights from the living room, creating a halo effect that made her look almost angelic. Almost. "I was about to send out a search party."
"You know I had to finish that essay," you said, letting her guide you toward the kitchen island. "My professor wonât accept 'I was at a rager' as an excuse for late work."
Stella laughed, the sound cutting through the noise, warm and familiar. She handed you a cup of something fruity and suspicious, and leaned against the counter beside you. "You're such a nerd. That's why I love you."
You sipped, letting the sweetness hit. "Where's the music coming from? This actually sounds decent."
"Oh." Stella's smile went knowing, tilted at the edges. She nodded toward the archway leading to the living room. "My brotherâs on the decks tonight. He threatened to blackball James from the next three parties if he touched his equipment."
Your eyes drifted before your brain could catch up, scanning the crowd through the archway. The living room had been transformed. Couch pushed back, coffee table relocated, and in the corner, elevated slightly on a platform of wooden crates and a folding table, was Martin.
He was wearing a white tank that clung to his shoulders, arms moving with practiced ease over the mixer. His blonde hair, dyed blonde, almost platinum under the lights, fell across his forehead in a way that looked calculated but was probably just from moving around. From here, he looked every inch the frat boy stereotype. Tall, built from basketball and gym sessions, radiating that specific brand of confidence that came from being six foot three and knowing everyone at the party.
He had his boys around him, some standing on the platform, some leaning against the wall, all of them nodding to the beat he was laying down. A couple girls were hovering nearby too, laughing too loud at something one of his bros said, but Martin wasn't looking at them.
He was looking at you.
The recognition hit like static electricity. Your gaze locked with his across the crowded room, and his hands didn't stop moving, fingers dancing over knobs and faders, but something in his posture shifted. A tilt of the head. A smirk that wasn't quite aimed at the crowd.
"Uh-huh," Stella said, drawing the syllable out like taffy. She waved her hand in front of your face. "Earth to Y/N."
You snapped your attention back to her, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the body heat in the room. "What?"
"Nothing." She was grinning now, that wicked best-friend grin that meant she knew something you didn't. "Just noticing how my brother keeps looking over here like he's performing for a crowd of one."
"He's DJing," you said, keeping your voice level, taking another sip. "He's supposed to watch the crowd. Read the room."
"The room is fifty sophomores trying to start a mosh pit, babe. He's not looking at them." She bumped her shoulder against yours. "He's been asking about you, by the way. 'Y/N coming tonight?' 'Y/N working on something?' Like I don't have better things to do than keep tabs on my best friend for my little brother."
"He's being polite," you said, but you didn't believe it. You'd caught Martin's eyes on you before. At dinner when you came over to study, in the hallway when you were leaving, always from across rooms, always with that same intensity that made you feel like you were under a spotlight. But he never approached. Never said more than a mumbled "what's good" when Stella forced introductions.
A boy who looked but didn't touch? Who stared but didn't speak? That wasn't it, as far as you were concerned.
"Come on," Stella said, grabbing your hand again. "Let's go dance before the good songs end."
The living room was a pressure cooker of bodies, heat rising from skin to skin contact, the music shifting to something with a heavier bass line that you could feel in your teeth. Stella moved like she was made of water, all fluid hips and confident steps, and you fell into rhythm beside her, letting the beat loosen your joints.
But you could feel it. That weight on the back of your neck, the prickle of being watched.
Martin was still at his station, still manipulating the crowd's energy with one hand while the other adjusted his headphones. But his eyes kept finding you. In the gap between songs. During the build-up. When the beat dropped and the room erupted, his gaze stayed steady, pinned to you like you were the only fixed point in a spinning room.
You didn't look back. Not directly. You danced with Stella, laughed at her jokes, let some guy from your Econ class spin you around once before you politely extracted yourself. You were unbothered. Untouchable.
If he wanted to look, he could look. But looking was free, and you weren't a museum piece.
"He's going to strain something," Stella shouted over the music, leaning close to your ear. She'd followed your line of sight, or maybe she'd just known where your attention would drift. "All that staring. His neck's gonna snap."
"Maybe he should worry about his transitions instead," you shouted back, but you were smiling despite yourself.
Stella's phone buzzed against her hip. She kept it in a holster like a gunslinger, always accessible, and she checked the screen, her expression shifting. "Shit. I gotta go handle something. Tyler's having a crisis in the backyard about his ex."
"Do you have to?"
"Sadly, yes. I'm the only one who knows the whole story." She squeezed your arm, already backing away. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"That leaves a lot of options!"
"Exactly!"
She disappeared into the crowd, a flash of blonde hair and sequined top, and suddenly you were alone in a sea of people who knew each other better than they knew you. You made small talk with a girl from your dorm, waved at someone from your study group, but the conversation felt thin, stretched too tight over the noise.
Across the room, Martin's eyes found yours again.
This time, he didn't look away. He held your gaze while his hand reached for a vinyl, actual vinyl, you noticed, not just digital files, and he held it up, showing you the label. Some old rock band you'd never heard of, probably. He raised an eyebrow, a question in the gesture.
You know this one?
You shook your head, just barely.
He smiled then. Not the performative frat boy grin he wore for the crowd, but something smaller, private. He mouthed something you couldn't hear, but you caught the shape of it. Later.
Then the beat dropped, and the crowd surged, and when you looked again, he was focused on his equipment, head nodding to a rhythm only he could hear through his headphones.
You lasted ten more minutes. The friend group you'd found was fine, nice enough, talking about summer plans and internship applications, but none of them had Stella's sharp wit, her ability to make you feel like the funniest person in the room. You did the Irish goodbye, slipping away without announcement, weaving through bodies toward the stairs.
You needed your phone. You'd gotten ready at Stella's earlier, helped her blow up balloons and arrange snack bowls, and you'd left your bag in her room upstairs. The hallway was quieter, the bass muffled to a distant thrum, and you could hear the bathroom door clicking shut, voices behind it that you definitely didn't want to interrupt.
Stella's room was at the end of the hall. But halfway there, you stopped.
Martin's door was open.
Not wide open. Just a crack, a sliver of warm light spilling across the carpet. In all the times you'd been to this house, all the study sessions and movie nights and pre-games, that door had been firmly shut. Locked, probably. A barrier between the frat boy public persona and whatever private world Martin kept hidden.
You looked left. The bathroom door was still closed, muffled laughter seeping through.
You looked right. The stairs led back down to the party, to the noise and the crowd and Martin's eyes on you from across the room.
Well fuck it.
The door creaked when you pushed it. Just enough to slip through, just enough to see.
The first thing that hit you was the smell. Not the expected scent of gym socks and cheap body spray, but something cleaner. Cedar, maybe. Old paper and vinyl. The room was surprisingly neat, bed made with military precision, desk organized with what looked like obsessive attention to detail.
And then you saw the trophies.
They lined a shelf above the desk. Basketball medals, mostly, gold and silver catching the lamplight. Regional championships. MVP awards. The physical proof of the frat boy athlete, the tall guy who dominated the court. You walked closer, running a finger along the edge of a plaque. Martin Jonathan Edwards, All-Conference First Team.
But the walls told a different story.
Posters, actual framed posters, not just taped magazine pages, covered every available inch of drywall. Not the expected sports figures or motivational quotes, but bands. Vintage rock, punk, subgenres you'd need a music degree to identify. Sonic Youth. My Bloody Valentine. Bands with names that sounded like poetry or threats.
And the CDs.
They took up an entire wall, floor to ceiling, organized alphabetically or by genre or by some system only Martin understood. Hundreds of them. Thousands, maybe. You moved toward them like they were magnetic, drawn by the sheer absurdity of it. This collection represented hours of hunting, of crate digging, of obsessive curation.
This wasn't a frat boy room. This was a confession.
You pulled one from the shelf. A rare pressing, judging by the worn edges of the case, and turned it over in your hands. The plastic was cool against your palms.
"Yo, most people ask before they go through someone's stuff."
You didn't jump. You should have, but something in you had been waiting for this. The voice, the presence, the inevitability of him finding you here.
Martin was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted against the frame in that specific way he had, like he was too tall for the world and had gotten used to looking down on everything. He'd taken off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck, and up close you could see the flush in his cheeks from the performance.
He was taller than you remembered, or maybe you were just more aware of it now, the way he filled the doorway, the way you had to look up to meet his eyes.
"I didn't think you'd mind," you said, holding up the CD like evidence. "Since you left the door open. Practically an invitation."
"Practically," he agreed, pushing off the frame with a roll of his shoulders. He stepped into the room, and you realized too late that there was nowhere for you to go. The CD shelf was at your back. The bed was to your left. He was between you and the door.
And then he closed it.
The click of the latch was louder than it should have been, cutting off the party noise to a distant hum. You were alone with him. In his room. With his secrets spread out like offerings.
"Surprising, isn't it?" he asked, nodding toward the posters, the CDs, the carefully curated chaos of his actual personality. "Not exactly what you'd expect from the guy who runs the aux at every party, right?"
"Which part?"
"All of it." He moved closer, not crowding exactly, but occupying space in a way that made you hyperaware of every inch between you. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture pure frat boy, all casual confidence. "The guy who plays Top 40 for the boys has a first pressing of Daydream Nation. The rush chair knows the entire discography of shoegaze. The frat star has feelings about guitar pedals."
He was smiling, but it was different from downstairs. Self-deprecating. A little sharp.
"Why hide it?" you asked.
"Why not?" He shrugged, that single gesture doing something complicated. Lifting the strap of his tank, shifting the muscle of his shoulder. "People like the frat boy. He's easy. He plays the hits. He doesn't make anyone feel stupid for not knowing who Slowdive is. Plus," he added, a flicker of that cocky grin returning, "girls dig it. No cap."
"But that's not you."
His eyes caught yours, and there it was again. That weight, that intensity from across the room, but now there was no crowd to hide behind. No DJ booth creating distance.
"Nah," he said softly. "That's not me."
He took another step. You took one back, your shoulder blades hitting the CD shelf. He kept advancing, slow, deliberate, until you were moving backward across the carpet, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of his mattress and you sat down hard, the CD still clutched in your hand.
Martin didn't stop. He kept coming, settling onto the bed beside you. Not touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat coming off his arm, could smell that cedar scent up close now, mixed with something else. Something like the static before a storm.
"You know what the worst part is?" he asked, his voice dropping. The party downstairs felt like another planet.
"What?"
"I've been trying to holler at you for months." He turned to face you, one knee bent on the mattress, his body angled toward yours. "Since last semester. Since that night you came over to help Stella with her sociology project and you quoted bell hooks at dinner like it was nothing. Like everyone should just know who bell hooks is."
You blinked. "You remember that?"
"I remember everything." He reached out, his hand hovering over yours where it rested on the CD case. He didn't touch. Not yet. "I remember you wearing that yellow sweater. I remember you laughing at Stella's terrible jokes and making her feel smart even when she was being stupid. I remember thinking, damn, there's someone who actually sees people."
Your throat felt tight. "Martin."
"I know I'm not," he gestured at himself, at the room, at the duality of his existence. "I know I'm not what you probably go for. I'm too tall, I'm in a frat, I act dumber than I am. But I keep looking at you across rooms, and you keep looking back, and I keep thinking maybe."
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe you'd come to my game next week." He said it fast, like the words were escaping. "Saturday, three o'clock. We're playing State. And I know it's just intramural, I know it's not. I'm not trying to wife you up or anything, I just. I play better when you're there. I can feel you watching, and I want to be better."
You stared at him. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"I know."
"No, I mean." You laughed, the sound breaking some of the tension, but not all of it. "You think I make you play better? That's insane."
"Probably." He was grinning now, that frat boy charm bleeding through but mixed with something real, something desperate. "But I've been three for three when you're in the stands. Coincidence?"
"Definitely."
"Prove it." He leaned closer, and you didn't pull back. "Come to the game. Watch me lose. I'll admit I was wrong."
"And if you win?"
"Then you let me take you out. Real food, not dining hall sludge. And I tell you about every single CD on that wall."
"That's a lot of CDs."
"I've got time."
He was close now. Close enough that you could see the flecks of darker gold in his dyed hair, the way his pupils had blown wide in the dim light of the room. Close enough that his knee was brushing yours, that his hand had finally settled over yours on the CD case, his fingers warm and long and slightly calloused from basketball and from spinning vinyl.
"You've been watching me," you said. It wasn't an accusation.
"Couldn't stop if I tried," he admitted. "You're a tall girl , you know that right? You walk into rooms like you own them. You make Stella laugh harder than anyone. You pretend not to see me staring, and it drives me absolutely crazy."
"Good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." You leaned in, just slightly, just enough to close some of the distance. "Maybe you should do something about it instead of just watching."
His breath caught. You could see it, the way his chest stilled, the way his eyes dropped to your mouth and then back up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He moved first, but you met him halfway. It was soft, hesitant, his hand coming up to cup your jaw with a gentleness that didn't match his size, his frat boy exterior. His lips were warm, slightly chapped, and they moved against yours with a carefulness that made your chest ache. No rush, no demand, just the slow exploration of a first kiss, the kind that made you feel like you were in high school again, sneaking around after curfew.
The CD case dug into your palm where you still clutched it, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not with the way he tilted his head to fit better against you, not with the way his other hand found your waist and rested there, light and uncertain and sweet.
He pulled back first, just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah," you whispered, your hand finding the front of his tank, gripping the fabric just slightly. "This is okay."
He smiled, that same small, private smile from across the crowded room, and leaned in again. This time was shorter, sweeter, just a press of lips and a promise.
The door burst open.
"Martin, have you seen my girl? I lost her downstairs and she's not answering her..." Stella's voice trailed off, her eyes going wide as saucers as she took in the scene. You and her brother, sitting close on his bed, your hand on his chest, his hand on your waist, guilty as sin.
You scrambled upright, heat flooding your face, your neck, your entire body. "Stella, I can explain."
"Oh my god." She leaned against the doorframe, one hand over her heart, the other pressed to her mouth. "Oh my god. I should have clocked that way sooner."
"Stella, it's not."
"Not what?" She dropped her hand, her expression shifting from shock to delight, that wicked grin returning full force. "Not obvious? Not inevitable? Not the fact that my brother's been down bad for you since literally the first time you came over and he spent forty minutes in the bathroom fixing his hair?"
"Stella," Martin groaned, burying his face in his hands.
"Forty minutes?" you repeated, looking at him.
"She's lying," Martin said, but his ears were turning pink.
"Letâs make it an hour," Stella corrected. "And he made me play three different songs to see which one you'd like best. It was pathetic, truly."
"You're not helping," Martin muttered.
"Oh, I'm absolutely helping." She pushed off the doorframe, backing into the hallway. "I'm about to go tell the whole house that DJ Martin finally made a move. You two have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, which, let's be real, leaves you plenty of room."
"Hell fucking nah, Stella!"
"Love you, bye!"
She pulled the door shut behind her, and you were left in the sudden silence, the hum of the party downstairs filtering through the walls, your face still burning with embarrassment.
"She's going to tell everyone," you said.
"Probably." He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back on his palms, looking up at you with that lazy frat boy grin that didn't quite hide how pleased he was. "You cool with that?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Just checking." He reached out, catching your hand where it rested on the bed, his thumb tracing slow circles against your palm. "So. Saturday. Three o'clock. You gonna come watch me ball?"
"Are you going to play better?"
"Bet." He squeezed your hand, grinning wide. "I'm gonna drop forty points if you're there."
"That's a lot of points."
"For you?" He pulled you back down beside him, easy and casual, like you'd done it a hundred times before. "I'd drop a hundred."
James was settled comfortably in the corner of the sofa, his posture relaxed as he scrolled through his phone with one hand. His other arm was draped lazily over your legs, which were stretched out across his lap.
You, on the other hand, were secretly plotting. Under the guise of casually browsing your phone, you swiped past your actual apps and opened the camera, positioning it discreetly to capture his face for a harmless prank.
"Oh my god," you gasped aloud, letting your voice drop into a tone of utter, simulated disbelief.
James paused mid scroll. He didn't look up immediately, but his thumb hovered over his screen before he finally raised his eyes, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "What?"
"Martin just matched with me on Tinder," you said, executing the delivery with perfect, wide eyed shock.
Jamesâs eyes widened instantly. For a split second, a look of pure, amused disbelief flashed across his features. "Wait... Martin? My best friend, Martin?"
You nodded solemnly, leaning into the lie to keep him on the hook.
"Six foot three, wasian Martin?" he clarified, his voice climbing an octave as he tried to process the mental image of his buddy on the app.
"Yes, that Martin," you confirmed, letting out a small, breathless laugh at his reaction. "What other Martin do we even know?"
James burst into a sudden, genuine laugh, shaking his head. "No way. I just... I literally cannot picture him on Tinder. That is wild." He stared blankly at the wall for a second, trying to wrap his head around the scenario.
But as the initial hilarity of the thought began to fade, his expression slowly shifted. The amusement melted away, replaced by a sudden, sharp realization.
His eyes snapped back to you. He slid your legs off his lap and stood up, towering over the couch. "Wait a minute. How the fuck do you even know he's on Tinder? Are you on Tinder? Why the fuck are you on Tinder?!"
You immediately looked away, pretending to scramble for a cover story while trying desperately to suppress the giggles bubbling up in your throat. "No! Uh... Seonghyeon. Yeah, Seonghyeon just texted me. He said he saw it on Martin's phone."
James squinted, his gaze scrutinizing your face. "You and Seonghyeon barely talk," he pointed out, his voice dropping into a suspicious, low register.
He took a decisive step closer, reaching out to grab your phone to see the evidence for himself. You reacted instantly, pulling the device back against your chest.
When he reached for it again, you curled yourself into a tight, defensive ball in the corner of the sofa, tucking the phone securely between your stomach and your knees. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting a losing battle against a fit of laughter.
"Y/n, let me see the phone," James insisted, his hands gently but firmly reaching in to try and pry your defensive posture apart.
You cracked completely, a loud laugh escaping you. "James, chill! Seriously!"
Before you could scramble away, James easily scooped you up in one swift motion, lifting you completely off the cushions. He playfully dropped you back onto the soft sofa, the sudden bounce startling you just enough that your grip loosened. The phone slipped from your hands, sliding off the edge of the cushions and landing face down on the area rug below.
"No, James, stop!" you cried out, still trying to play the part of the panicked girlfriend.
With his jaw set in mock seriousness, James ignored your protests and reached down, picking up the phone. He flipped it over, fully expecting to see a dating profile active on the screen. Instead, he was met with the active camera app recording the rug, the lens pointing down at the floor.
A heavy, massive sigh of pure relief escaped his chest. He tossed the phone onto the cushions beside you and crossed his arms, staring down at your laughing form. "You think you're funny, huh?"
You nodded frantically, tears of laughter pricking the corners of your eyes.
Slowly, James stepped forward. He uncrossed his arms, extending his hands with his fingers lightly twitching in a gesture you recognized instantly.
Your eyes went wide, your laughter turning into genuine panic. "No, baby, I'm sorry! Please, please don't!"
Ignoring your pleas, James lunged forward, tackling you back into the cushions. His fingers immediately found your sides and armpits, sending you into a fit of breathless, helpless shrieks and wild squirming.
He hovered over you, a victorious, bright smile on his face as he watched you try to wriggle out of his grasp. Only when you were completely out of breath did he finally relent, keeping his hands resting lightly on your waist.
The room fell quiet, save for the sound of your heavy breathing. James hovered there for a moment, his gaze softening as his eyes traced your face. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.
"Don't do that again, understand?" he murmured, his thumb gently caressing your side through your shirt.
You looked up at him, still slightly dazed from the laughter, and nodded. "Okay."
He shifted, sitting back down beside you on the sofa. You immediately slid over, resting your head against his shoulder with a contented sigh. "You know I'd never actually do that to you, right?" you added softly, pressing a quick kiss to the fabric of his shirt.
James nodded, resting his chin on top of your head. "Yeah, I know. It was just scary for a second."
You smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He looked down at you, his expression fond, before leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. But as he pulled back, you noticed the sudden, mischievous glint returning to his brown eyes. A slow smirk crept onto his face.
"You know I'm getting you back for this, right?" he whispered.
You groaned loudly, already dreading whatever elaborate revenge scheme his competitive brain would cook up.
Defeated, you dramatically let yourself slide backward, flattening yourself completely against the sofa cushions. James just laughed, the warm, steady sound filling the room as he pulled you back into his side.
âïœĄâ§ËàźàčâĄàčàźËâ§ïœĄâ
Sidenote: I don't know whose gonna actually read this note but I do wanna notify anyone who does read my fics that I will be slowing down with publishing my fics as now I just gotta job recently and I will be going back to college soon so a lot of my time will be occupied so imma try and put out what I can before then. Thank you. :)
pairing. martin x fem!reader genre. fluff wordcount. 401 warnings. pet names, skinship, martin forgetting heâs a literal giant??, kissing, the regular !
ririâs notes. i think you guys could tell but heâs my bias..
( SYNOPSIS ) how i think martin would act as your boyfriend!
like this? find my masterlist here .
cuddling together
martin acts tough until youâre around. the second youâre beside him, heâs pulling you against his chest or wrapping an arm around your shoulders. but martin literally forgets that heâs 6â3, so when he tries to be little spoon, his legs are falling off the couch. although heâs naturally affectionate and loves having you close, especially after a long day of schedules.
affection
martin shows affection without even thinking about it. heâll rest a hand on your back while walking, kiss your forehead in passing, or gently pull you closer when youâre standing next to him. it always feels effortless with him.
texting
his texts are a mix of sweet and just straight memes. one minute heâs asking how your day is going, and the next heâs sending a picture of lebron james (take his fucking phone plsđ) but no matter how busy he is, he always makes time to check on you.
when youâre sleepy
martin gets incredibly soft when youâre tired. heâll quietly make sure youâre comfortable, let you rest against him, and keep everyone else from bothering you. if you fall asleep on him, heâs staying exactly where he is. one time, you fell asleep curled up on his lap, and he lost circulation in his legs. his reason for not moving: âmy gf is sleeping.â
love language
martinâs biggest love language is physical touch. he loves holding your hand, hugging you, and keeping you close whenever he can. for him, being near you is one of the easiest ways to show how much he cares. the members dramatically gag everytime they find yall tangled together on the couch.
when youâre upset
he notices when something is wrong almost immediately. martin isnât the type to force you to talk, but heâll stay by your side until youâre ready. whatever you need, heâs there without hesitation. when youâre crying, he lets you soak his hoodie too. (even if itâs his favorite one.)
around the members
the members are constantly catching martin looking at you. heâll act like nothing happened, but everyone notices the way his face softens whenever youâre around. at this point, nobody is surprised anymore. keonho calls it âthe martin-is-falling-in-love-with-y/n-again look.â
when he misses you
after spending time apart, martin becomes extra clingy. heâll pull you into a long hug the second he sees you and stay close for the rest of the day. heâs missed you, and heâs making that everyoneâs problem. martinâs like a string bean trying to cuddle up against a pea. (long ass limbs đ€ŠđŸââïž)
pet names
martin loves calling you âma.â (donât hate me guys pls) it slips out naturally and makes the members groan every single time. heâll also use âbaby,â âpretty girl,â and âprincessâ when heâs feeling extra affectionate. i think heâs also apart of the silly pet name crew (with james). when heâs feeling silly, heâll definitely say names like âsweetcheeksâ âhoney boo bearâ âmy amazing goated girlfriendâ, heâs literally chronically online too.
falling asleep together
youâll start the night on your own side of the bed and somehow wake up tucked against martinâs chest. he always reaches for you in his sleep, like his body automatically knows where you are. heâll never admit it, but he feels more like a man whenever heâs big spoon.
all iâm getting on my fyp right now is cortis videos from their tour and everyone and their mama is arguing about the no-phone policy
and to be honest, everyone defending the excessive phone use saying âwhy shouldnât we record if we paid for the experience? we deserve to walk away with somethingâ is missing the entire point.
from the beginning, cortis has been about authenticity. they explained that their attraction to vintage aesthetics and such is based in a desire to move away from the fakeness and manufactured qualities of today. hence, the tour (quite literally named) âput your phones down.â
if you donât get hours of video footage from their concert, you are still not walking away with ânothing. you went to a concert that so many people wanted to be at, and you are leaving with the memory that you went. thatâs a privilege. years ago, people didnât have the technology to record an entire concert themselves. they just went to support a band and enjoy their music, which again, is the entire message cortis is trying to push.
and to be honest, the reasoning is weak for even simpler points than that. âif i payedââ exactly. you paid for a ticket to a tour called put your phones down, and youâre wondering why the artist (a group of teenage boys, btw) is asking you to put your phone down???
if you think and act so disrespectfully and entitled towards cortis, how can you call yourself coer?
êyn // You loved attending gatherings with your mom since you were a kid, mostly because of one girl you hit it off with since the beginning. However, since she got a boyfriend, itâs rare to see her. Now youâre thinking if itâs even worth it to waste time at these home parties. Your mind quickly changes when her younger brother randomly starts a conversation with you about Sudoku.
SHORTLY .áâ Keonho wanted to get to know you since he could remember, but he wasnât sure if you were even aware of his existence. When he notices you playing Sudoku, Keonho gets an idea of how to make you notice him.
CONTAINS .áâ acquantaines2lovers family friends dynamic slowburn romance wonhee&keonho are siblings martin&stella are cousins reader is 09 down bad keonho school au profanity
WORD COUNT .áâ 5.8k (582O)
đ«laylist .áâ chosenâblood orange&caroline polachek, sometimes memory fails me sometimesâeveryone asked about you, the thrill of lonelinessâhana stretton, it had to be youâfrank sinatra, all i needâradiohead, lover, you shouldâve come overâjeff buckley, be my angelâmazzy star, sometimesâfaye webster damnedâmiguel
á° note .áâ ITS HEREEEE FINALLYYYYY!!!! i genuinely loved writing this fic !! this was heavily inspired by those things i find attractive slideshows on tt LMAOO but i really hope you guys enjoy this <333 btw this was based on my last situationship LOL it ended back in may so idc it was just for fun but itâs still a lil bit awkward bcs weâre in the same friend group (FAMILY FRIENDS đđ) the wc turned out to be way less than I expected but the situationship was like 1.5 months long so đ€đ€ not a lot to write about in comparison w/fluoroscent adolescent (situationship was 1.5 years long) cortis masterlist .áâ
YOU DONâT REMEMBER the first time you went to meet your parentsâ friends. Only vague fragments cloud your mind sometimes. But you do remember that talking with Wonhee was as easy as getting a paper scratch.
Your talks were never forced: they included pointless school gossip and deepest secrets you didn't dare to share with anyone but her.
At some point in your life, you went to a family friend's functions just to talk to her. Unfortunately, it is not like that anymore.
Ever since Wonhee started talking with a guy from her grade, she slowly stopped coming with her family, texting you a quick apology and promising you'll talk at school.
You understand her; high school romance becomes a priority in your life as soon as it appears in your life. The feelings you've never experienced really mess up your senses. At least, that's what you think. Are you trying to excuse her? You don't really know.
But you know that these gatherings become more and more boring.
Sure, Martin's and Stella's cousin's antics are still comical, and Woonhakâs college stories make you wonder what will happen next, but it is not the same.
As you sit on the couch at Stella's house, you wonder if you should come here the next time or just study for the next quiz in biology. If you are going to spend time doing something you don't particularly enjoy, at least you should do something productive.
With this thought in mind, you take your phone to open the sudoku app. It's a little hobby you developed to pass your time with use. It's just the right difficulty tooâhard enough to not make you bored, but easy enough that you are not stuck on the same puzzle for the next week. The rest of the group went out to get drinks while your favorite place is still open. You made Woonhak remember your exact order a few years ago because you were too lazy to wake up from your nap, so you are not worried about being thirsty.
Putting numbers into the grid, you don't notice how the couch dips under the weight beside you. You don't feel the pair of curious eyes follow your fingers until the person speaks up.
âYou know how to play sudoku?â a captivated voice suddenly breaks the silence.
When you divert your attention from your phone to the person beside you, you are surprised by the distance between you. Not close enough to make you uncomfortable, but definitely enough to be able to see the moles on his face.
The person behind the questioning voice was KeonhoâWonheeâs younger brother. He was the same age as you, although you can't say that the two of you are close.
Actually, you barely even talk to him. You know he's in the same friend group as Martin and that he is a swimmer. That's all. Pretty weird, as you and his sister are almost inseparable.
After a second of silence after his question, you give him a slight nod, followed by your own query. âYou don't?â
âNah, I never really bothered to learn,â Keonho answers as he pulls out his phone from his sweatpantsâ pockets, opening some social media.
You ponder for a moment before asking, âDo you want me to teach you?â
You never really bothered to get close to him. You greeted him at school and made small talk when you were in the same vicinityâthat was enough for you. Thus, you are not sure what made you propose something like a lesson in sudoku.
Keonho seemed surprised at your offer, but quickly agreed, âSure, if it's not hard for you.â
âNo, not at all.â
Your assurance gave him the confidence to move closer to you so he could see the screen clearly. You didn't mind it; actually, you lay back so it was more comfortable for both of you.
Starting a new level on the easy difficulty, you started explaining the basic technique of Sudoku.
âBasically, there can only be one digit in each square, row, and column. you check each of them for a specific digit and decide where the missing one should be,â you explain slowly, showing him what you mean with your fingers.
âSo, if thereâs a 2 in these upper rows, then the third one should be in the bottom one?â
âExactly, you're a fast learner.â
Keonho grins at your compliment, eyes curving into crescents. âMaybe you're just a great teacher.â
His praise makes you laugh. You hand your phone to him. âLet's check how amazing of a teacher I am.â
âAh, I don't think I am at that level yet.â he shakes his head, but the smile doesn't leave his face. I still need the teacherâs guidance.â
âJust try, ask me if you have any questions.â
Keonho doesn't answer and just leans back with your phone in his hand.
Time passes as he asks you if a number goes into that spot every minute. You watch as he completes his first sudoku puzzle ever.
When he understood the fundamentals of the game, he started asking questions and telling you stories from his life: Martin getting scammed, his upcoming swimming competition, and even how Wonhee is barely home these days.
âShe is either at school, hanging out with her friends, or talking with that guy of hers. " You know anything about it?â Keonho rambles, finishing his 6th square. When he asks you about Wonhee, he pauses slightly and glances at you.
Your attention was focused on the screen before, but as you catch his gaze, you start to think about the question. Do you know anything about Wonheeâs situationship?
âI think he might ask her out soon.â
âReally? Well, if that happens, she will stop bothering me about it,â he chuckles, going back to the game.
You snickered at this, letting him lead the conversation again.
âFinallyâŠâ Keonho breathes out while handing you your phone back; the bold phrase âcompletedâ is shown on the screen.
You pocket the device and sit up slightly, âGood job.â
Keonho closes his eyes and mutters some words of gratitude. At first, you thought he was tired, but you were proven wrong when he rose the next second. He seemed jittery, cracking his knuckles while looking back at you every second or so.
âYouââ he pauses, cracks his knuckles again. âI mean, are you gonna be here next weekend?â he stutters while struggling to maintain eye contact.
His sudden question caught you off guard as you never had a proper interaction before tonight, and, well, you rarely miss these hangouts. It's not that you minded the questionâit just surprised you. In all these years of knowing each other, you'd never gone beyond some small talk. Why would he care now?
âI mean, yeah. Why wouldn't I?â He looks away as if to think about your response. âWonhee won't probably come, so I thought you know?â
Oh.
You hadn't expected him to notice that you were pretty bored without her. It made something small flutter in your chest, something that you quickly pushed down. You didn't want him to think that she's the only reason you come here. He's not wrong, you admit to yourself, but that's not something I want to say out loud.
âI'm pretty bummed that she doesn't hang out with us anymore, but it's alright. I'm still having fun with the rest.â
Keonho raises an eyebrow, sending you a funny look. He clearly doesn't believe you.
âWhat? It's true.â Martins and Stella's fights are enough to make me stay,â you defend yourself, crossing your arms. He snorts at that, shaking his head with a soft laugh, âpfft, alright, whatever you say.â
Before you could even prove Keonho wrong, the others arrived with the drinks. The peaceful bubble youâd been in was popped by Woonhakâs loud entrance, followed by martinâs and stellaâs bickering.
âDid we miss anything?â Woonhak asks, while handing you your usual drink and then settling onto the armrest across from you.
Keonho glanced at you, a small smile creeping onto his face. âNothing much.â
You caught his eye and found the urge to roll your eyes. âNothing much,â he says. Like you didnât just spend thirty minutes teaching him how to solve a puzzle.
The rest of the evening goes on as usualâcousinsâ petty arguments, Woonhakâs complaint about finals, the comforting presence of childhood friends.
But tonight, Keonhoâs presence felt different. You werenât sitting next to each other anymore, but you paid attention now. When he laughed at something Martin said, you found yourself smiling too.
When it was time to leave, you grabbed your hoodie and headed for the door, where your mom was waiting for you outside.
âHey.â
You turned around. Keonho was standing a few feet away, putting on his hoodie.
âThanks for teaching me.â
âYouâre welcome,â you said, surprised by how genuine he sounded.
He nodded, âThen, Iâll see you soon.â
It wasnât a question; it was something he had already decided. And you subconsciously allowed it.
âYeah,â you said quietly. âSee you soon.â
THE NEXT MORNING, your sleep was disturbed by the call from your mom.
Shuffling in your bed, you stretch out your hand to grab your phone from the bedside stand. Randomly tapping in hopes of picking up the call, you bring it to your ear.
âHello?â
â[name], do you have any plans today?â
Before answering, you go through your weekly plans in your head, trying to remember if you had anything today. âNo, I donât think so.â
âDo you want to have breakfast with my friends and me? Stella and the others are here too!â
âYeah, sure,â you answer without thinking it through.
âWonhee is not here; her brother is though! " Weâll be in the cafe near our house,â she mentions. âCome quick!â
Your mom hung up the phone before you could even answer. That made you get up from the bed to start getting ready.
You washed your face and brushed your teeth, dressed up in a comfortable outfit, and just did your mascara for the makeup. Itâs not like you had a lot of time on your hands.
The cafe wasnât even a ten-minute walk from your house, but still you found yourself walking faster, getting excited about a simple breakfast.
When you pushed through the door, the strong smell of coffee and pastries hit you immediately. Your momâs laugh rang out from the corner table, and you spotted her waving at you enthusiastically.
âOver here!â
She was seated with two other womenâMrs. Park and Mrs. KimâMartinâs and Stellaâs moms. The table was filled with toasts, omelets, fruits, and steaming cups of coffee. Stella and Martin were squeezed on one side, arguing over the last croissant.
And then there was Keonho.
He was sitting at the end of the table, scrolling through his phone, looking like heâd rather be anywhere else. He was dressed in a simple blue hoodie, hair slightly messy. he looked up to look at you, and that sight made you feel something strange in your stomach. For a second, his expression shiftedâsurprise, then something softer, a small smile tugging at his lips.
You looked away quickly.
â[name]!â Stella called out, finally noticing you. She waved you over, gesturing to an empty seat. âCome sit! We saved you a spot.â
The empty seat was next to Keonho.
You swallowed and made your way over, sliding into the chair next to him.
âMorning,â he said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear.
âMorning,â you replied, suddenly very interested in the menu.
Your mom, of course, noticed nothing. â[Name], Mrs. Kim and Mrs. Park havenât been able to talk to you in so long; theyâve been asking about you!â
The next few minutes were filled with polite talks, your mom's friends commenting on how much youâd grown and how they remember when you were just a toddler. You answered automatically, nodding at the right moments, but the awareness kept drifting to the person next to you.
Keonho wasnât saying much. he was focused on his talk with Martin while stirring his coffee. When your mom asked him about school, he answered politely, and you found yourself listening more intently than youâd like to admit.
âDo you have a girlfriend, Keonho?â Mrs. Kim asked suddenly, her voice calm with a slight teasing tone.
You almost choked on your drink.
Keonho laughed softly, shaking his head. âNo, maâam, just focused on swimming at the moment.â
âWhat a shame,â Mrs. Kim sighed dramatically. âYouâre such a handsome boy.â
Stella groaned, âMom, pleaseââ
The table dissolved into laughter, and you found yourself laughing too. You risked a glance at Keonho, and he caught your eye, rolling his own in a silent can you believe this?
You bit your lip to keep from smiling too much.
Everything is normal, you tried telling yourself, despite the beating of your heart saying otherwise.
After breakfast, your mom and her friends decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. âYou kids stay safe and have fun,â she said, already pulling on her jacket.
Stella groaned. âWeâre not kids, Mom.â
âYouâll always be kids to me. Come on, ladies!â
The moms left in a bustle of laughter and goodbyes, leaving the four of you at the table. Martin leaned back in his chair, stretching.
âSoâŠwhat do we do now?â
You looked around the table. Stella was scrolling through her phone, and Keonho was finishing his coffee. You silently thought about what you could do.
âLetâs go to the playground across the street,â Stella broke the silence, putting her phone in her pocket.
Martin cracked a smile at her suggestion, âWhat are we? kids?â
âI mean, your aunt said that youâll always be one to her.â
âKeonho, shut your mouth.â
You giggled at the interaction.
The playground was small, but well-keptâa few swings, a slide, and a bench that looked like it had seen better days. Stella immediately claimed the swings, pumping her legs to get as high as possible. Martin sat on the bench, scrolling on his phone, occasionally looking up to mock her.
You found yourself standing near the slide, not sure what to do with yourself.
âYou okay?â
You turned. Keonho was standing a few feet away, hands in his hoodie pocket, watching you with a curious expression.
âYeah,â you said, still a little bit awkward. âJustâŠnot sure what to do.â
He nodded towards the bench. âMartin is gonna be on that thing for a while. Stellaâs probably going to convince us to get on the swings eventually.â
âIs that a bad thing?â
He grinned. âDepends on whoâs pushing.â
Before you could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out, looked at the notification, and his expression changed to a more relaxed one.
âSorry,â he said, tapping out a quick reply. âJust a friend.â
âNo worries.â
He pocketed the phone and looked at you again. âSeonghyeon. Martin and I have known him for a while. We were supposed to study later, but heâs trying to back out.â
You blinked. âSeonghyeon?â
âYeah, you know him?â
âheâs in my class,â you said, surprised. âWe are actually seatmates.â
Keonhoâs eyebrows rose. âSmall worldâ
âApparently.â
He chuckled, shaking his head. âI owe you a thank you then; your notes helped us both a lot last semester.â
âIâm glad,â you laughed, tension in your shoulders easing, âdid he give you a copy?â
âNope, we shared them when we studied. He kept complaining about how much information we had to memorize.â
âSounds like him.â
Stellaâs voice cut through the air. âAre you two going to stand there talking, or are you going to push me?â
Keonho looked at you, playful glint in his eyes, âDuty calls.â
âDonât push her too hard,â Martin called from the bench. âShe will throw up.â
âI will not!â
You laughed as Keonho walked over to the swings and gave it a half-hearted push that made Stella shriek. Martin was laughing now, too, and you found yourself smiling.
This is nice, really nice.
The hangout went well. With time, you joined Stella on the swings, and Martin told a funny story about a time when he and his friend Juhoon played basketball.
When you all went home, the sun was already behind the horizon. You said your goodbyes. Youâre all gonna meet again tomorrow at school anyway.
And that was something Keonho was not sure about.
When he walked in home, he could hear his parents chatting in the kitchen and his sister laughing in her room.
He came in to greet his parents and went straight to his room, taking his phone and scrolling through his contacts.
When he found the right one, he pressed the call button and waited for the person to pick it up, while pacing around the room.
âwhatâs up, keonho?â
âSeonghyeon, I need your help badly.â Keonho let out a breath he didnât know he was holding.
âWith what?â
âIf I see [name] tomorrow at school, what do I do?â Keonho whispered, closing the door to his room.
â[Name]? Did the breakfast go well?â Seonghyeon asked, surprised. Keonho mentioned that he and Martin went to a cafe and you were there, but that was all Seonghyeon knew.
âYeah, Iâd say so. We all hung out after; I literally just came home.â
âdamn,â Seonghyeon smirked. âJust say hi as a normal person. donât make it weird.â
âYeaââKeonho gulped, âI know, itâs just, what do I do?â
âWhat the fuck do you mean âwhat do you doâ Keonho?â Seonghyeon sneered. âJust send her a wave or a nod; thereâs nothing else to it.â
When Seonghyeon hung up, Keonho changed his clothes and went to sleep, hoping that the new week would go well.
MONDAY MORNING came faster than expected.
Keonho had barely sleptâhis mind kept replaying the cafe, the playgrounds, the way you laughed at Martinâs stories. He'd tossed and turned for hours before finally drifting off.
Now, standing in the hallway in front of his open locker, he felt like he was about to go to the international competition.
Just say hi, don't make it weird. He spotted you at the end of the hallway, chatting with Seonghyeon. You laughed at something he said. Keonho felt his stomach do a weird flip.
okay. Here we go.
He walked towards you, trying to look casual. When you noticed him, you just smiledâa small smile that still made his heart race.
âMorning,â he said, hoping his voice didn't crack.
âMorning,â you replied, still smiling.
And because he didn't know what else to do, he waved. a small, awkward wave that made him want to sink into the ground. Seonghyeon was watching him with barely concealed amusement.
Keonho wanted to die.
But you just laughedânot meanly, never, but warmly, and said: âSee you at lunch?â
âYeah,â he managed. âSee you thenâ
Keonho walked away feeling like he just swam 5 laps in a row.
The week continued like that. Filled with small moments that felt way bigger than they were.
On Tuesday, you passed him in the hallway and greeted him first. He almost forgot to reply.
On Wednesday, you sat with him and Stella at lunch, talking about the upcoming function. Stella complained about having to babysit, and you laughed. He couldn't stop thinking about how nice your laugh sounded.
On Thursday, he found himself texting you about the biology homework. It was a flimsy excuseâhe didn't even take biology. But you still responded, and you ended up chatting for an hour about everything.
By Friday, Keonho realized something.
He wasn't just interested anymore.
He was falling.
As for you, the week had beenâŠstrange. Not in a bad way.
You couldn't quite put your finger on when things had shifted, but somewhere between awkward hallway greetings and lunchtime conversations, Keonho had become a constant presence in your day. You found yourself noticing him in the crowd, smiling without realizing.
It was ridiculous. You'd known him for yearsâbarely, sure, but still. Why was this different?
Because before, you never really saw him, a small voice in your head whispered. And now, you can't stop.
You pushed the thought away, focusing on your biology notes. But the slight grin on your face wouldn't fade.
THE WEEKEND ARRIVED faster than you expected.
When your mom told you about the hangout at Stellaâs house, you felt a flutter of anticipation you couldn't quite explain. You told yourself it was because you'd been bored at the last oneâwhich was trueâbut a smaller part of you knew the real reason.
You arrived to find the house buzzing with noise. Adults were scattered around the dining room, drinks in hand, laughter filling the air. Stellaâs younger cousins were running around the living room, and Martin was trying to escape their grasp.
And then you saw him.
Keonho was standing near the kitchen, talking to Stellaâs mom. When he noticed you, his face lit up with a small smile that made your ears go red.
He greeted your mom first. When she joined the others in the dining room, he turned to face you.
âHey,â he started. âYou made it.â
âWouldn't miss it,â you said, surprising yourself with how much you meant it.
The evening continued with a loud and chaotic energy in the best way possible. You found yourself gravitating towards Keonho without really meaning toâstanding next to him during conversations, laughing a little bit louder at his comments, catching his eye during conversations and sharing a soft smile.
And then, as the night wore on, the adults made an announcement.
âStella, Martinâweâre going to the convenience store. Be back in thirty minutes. Can you watch Louis?â
You blinked. Louis was Stellaâs younger brotherâa chubby-cheeked toddler with endless energy.
âWait, what?â Stella started. âMomââ
âThirty minutes! Donât give him anything sweet!â
And just like that, the adults were gone.
You looked around. The four of you stood in the living room. Louis was sitting on the floor with his toys, and an awkward silence settled over the group.
Stella and Martin exchanged a look.
âWeâll be right back,â Stella said, grabbing her cousin's arm. âWe need to get something from upstairs.â
âStellaââ Keonho started.
âBabysitting! You will be fine!â
And then they were gone too.
You stood there, frozen, watching them disappear. Keonho let out a long sigh beside you.
âDid they justââ
âLeave us alone with a toddler?â You finished. âYeah, they did.â
Louis looked up at you with big, curious eyes.
And then he burst into a run.
The next twenty minutes were a blur of chasing, laughing, and almost stepping onto toys.
Louis was fastâfaster than any toddler you had encountered before. You and Keonho ended up working together to catch him.
At some point, youâd both ended up on the floor with Louis in Keonhoâs lap playing with his hoodie strings. You were exhausted, but smiling.
âHeâsâŠa lot,â you smiled, catching your breath.
Keonho laughed, running a hand through his messy hair. âYeah, but heâs cute.â
âHeâs cute when heâs still,â you agreed.
Louis looked between the two of you, his tiny head scrunched in thought. Then he asked a question youâd never see coming.
âAre you two dating?â
You nearly choked. âWhat?â
âAre you two dating?â He innocently repeated, looking at Keonho expectantly. âLike boyfriend and girlfriend?â
Keonhoâs face went red. âNo, noâweâre just friendsâ
âJust friends,â you repeated, nodding your head.
Louis seemed unsatisfied with this answer. He looked at you, then at Keonho, then at you again.
âYou look like youâre dating,â he declared and then squirmed off Keonhoâs lap to grab his toy car.
You and Keonho stared at each other, both of you frozen.
And then, without thinking, you both burst into nervous laughter.
âKids,â Keonho muttered, shaking his head.
âKids,â you agreed, your heart pounding.
Later, when Louis was finally distracted by a cartoon, Keonho noticed your shoelaces were untied.
âWait,â he knelt down, âYouâre going to trip.â
âKeonho, I canââ
But he was already doing it.
He tied your shoelaces carefully, his fingers brushing against your shoe. It was such a small gesture, but the sight of him kneeling there, focused on keeping you safe, made you catch your breath.
When he looked up, his eyes met yours.
And something shifted.
After definitely more than thirty minutes had passed, you were holding Louis. The toddler curled up against your chest, and Keonho was standing closeâcloser than he usually did. He kept glancing at you, making sure you didnât bump into anything while walking to the kitchen, his hand hovering near your back without quite touching.
You were so aware of him. Every time he moved, you felt it. Every time he looked at you, you felt it.
You tried telling yourself that he was just being considerate, that youâre both just babysitting, that itâs normal.
But nothing about the way your heart was racing was normal at all.
When the adults returned soon after, Stella and Martin finally came back downstairs. The chaos resumed, and you and Keonho drifted apart.
But he still glanced at you from time to time, like you were the only thing that mattered.
THE NEXT WEEK, everything went as usual, except you found yourself having lunch with Stella, Martin, and Keonho a lot more often than before.
Sometimes Wonhee joined you, but not for a long time. She would sit down, greet you, talk about her plans, and say bye. Earlier, it would upset you that she stopped hanging out with you, but things have changed.
You donât seem to rely on her as much anymore. Spending time with others on the weekends greatly impacted your interactions at school. You could easily strike up a conversation with Stella or laugh at Martinâs jokes without worrying about how you sound.
And for KeonhoâŠIt was both easy and complicated at the same time.
One day, he found you sitting in the library after school.
âHey,â he said, sliding into the seat in front of you. âI need your help with something.â
You looked up from your textbook, surprised to see him. âWith what?â
âMath,â he winced, taking out a crumpled worksheet from his bag. âI know itâs not your subject, but Iâm desperate. Stellaâs not helpful and Martinâs worse.â
You laughed, âYou came to me for math help?â
âSeonghyeon said youâre patient,â he said, and there was almost a shyness in how he said it. âAnd that youâre smart.â
The compliment caught you off guard. You felt warmth creep up your neck.
âIâm⊠not great at math,â you sighed. âBut I can try.â
âThatâs all I ask.â
That session was awkward. You both were hyper-aware of each other. The textbooks in front of you acted as shields. Every time your hands brushed against each other, both of you would quickly retrieve them and laugh nervously.
But thankfully, as time passed, the tension eased. He asked questions, and you answered. You worked through problems together, and when he got one right, he grinned at you like heâd won a prize.
âSee?â you said. âYouâre a fast learner.â
After that, sessions became a part of your routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday, youâd meet to be in the library after school. He would show you his homework, and you would work through it together, the hour passing faster than it should.
Keonho started bringing snacks. First, it was just a bag of gummies, then a sandwich, then a coffee when you mentioned you were tired.
âYou know, you donât have to do that?â you asked when he set the cup down in front of you.
âYeah,â he replied, shrugging. âI want to.â
And thereâs that.
After a particularly long session, you had to prepare for his quiz, Keonho packed up his things and looked at you.
âAre you hungry?â
You blinked. âWhat?â
âIâm starving,â he admitted. âAnd thereâs a place nearby. Really good food, I go there after practices sometimes.â
You hesitated at first. It felt like it would blur the line between you two more. But isnât the line already blurry?
âOkay,â you said. âLet me pack up.â
The cafe was small and cozy, tucked away on a side street you never noticed. You sat across from each other in a booth, and the conversation flowed easilyâno awkward pauses, no more overthinking. It felt right.
After you were done with the food, Keonho insisted on paying.
âKeonho, you donât have toââ
âI want to,â He said, cutting you off. âConsider it as a thank you for all this tutoring.â
You opened your mouth to argue, but he just smiled. And the words just died in your throat.
âFine,â you said. âBut the next time, itâs on meâ
His smile widened. âNext time?â
Your eyebrows shot up, face turning red. âI meanâif there is a next time, if youâd like it.â
âIâd love it,â he said softly.
AFTER DINNER, you decided to take a walk along the curbside.
The evening cool air hit against your skin, making you slightly shiver. Keonho was walking close to you, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed.
And then, without a warning, he reached out.
His hand reached out to your face, brushing against your cheek to fix your hair, tucking a stray strand behind your ear.
It was such a small gesture. Such an ordinary thing. So why did it feel like the world turned upside down?
âYou had something in your hair,â he said, voice barely above a whisper.
âOh,â you managed to reply. âThanks.â
You looked at him as you continued walking. Your heart skipped once.
Then twice.
You forgot whatever youâd been about to say, too caught up in the warmth that lingered where his fingers brushed your skin.
In that moment, something clicked.
Oh my god, you thought, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. Oh my god, I like him.
After walking you home, Keonho came back and lay down on his bed.
Staring at the ceiling, he replayed all shared moments with you. he couldnât stop thinking about how youâd taught him math and sudoku, how youâd smile at his attempts at being funny, or how shy you were when he complimented you from time to time.
And how youâd looked at him when he tucked your hair earlier.
He mightâve just kissed you right then and there, couldâve just blurted everything that has been on his mind.
As Keonho continues to stare down at the ceiling, he realizes that he has fallen for you before he even properly knew you. The quiet energy you radiated captured his attention too easily.
But now, these feelings were impossible to ignore.
He had no idea what to do about them.
THE NEW WEEKEND meant the new family friends' hangout.
This time, it was at Martinâs house. The backyard was filled with adults, the smell of barbecue hanging in the air. Martin and Stella were already bickering about music, and Woonhak escaped to somewhere quieter to finish his college assignment.
Keonho was there too.
He spotted you the moment you walked in, his face breaking into the same smile that always made your heart do a flip. You tried to play it cool, acting like you didnât completely change how you viewed him a couple of days ago.
The evening passed as usual, in blurs of small talk and laughter.
âWeâre out of soda,â Martin suddenly announced after searching the mini fridge.
âAgain?â Stella sighed. âMartin, I told you to get more.â
âIâll go buy some,â Keonho said, chuckling.
âCan you grab some chips too?â Woonhak called out.
âGot it.â
He slipped his phone into his pocket before turning to you.
âCome keep me company?â He asked, eyes glimmering under the shining stars.
You looked around. Everyone was already in their own world.
âYeah,â you said, walking to the fence. âLetâs go.â
The walk to the store was quick, but it felt longer. It was filled with quiet small talk about mundane thingsâschool, hangout, both of you even mentioned Louis.
The store itself was small and brightly lit. Keonho grabbed a few bottles of soda from the fridge, while you grabbed a bag of chips for Woonhak. When you went to pay, Keonho reached out and handed his card to the cashier before you could even pull out your wallet.
You looked at him with a pout, hinting that he didnât have to pay.
As he took back his card, he chuckled. âItâs okay, Iâll make Martin pay me back.â
You laughed, shaking your head. âWhatever.â
Both of you walked out the door, and you were again met with the nightâs cool air. As you were walking back, the silence engulfed your space. The only noise interrupting the quiet atmosphere was the sound of your footsteps and a distant hum of traffic.
You almost reached the house when Keonho suddenly stopped.
You turned to look at him, confused. âWhatâs wrong?â
He put the grocery bags on the street, walking towards you.
âNothing's wrong,â he said quietly. âI just,â he swallowed.
He looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face. Then looked away.
âKeonho?â You stepped closer to check on him.
He looked back at you, and there was something extremely vulnerable in his eyes. Something genuine.
âI wanted to ask you,â he confessed. âAnd it might sound sudden, butââ
He took a step closer. The distance between the two of you was almost nonexistent. He was close enough that you could feel his breath.
âCan I kiss you?â
For a moment, the world stopped.
You were processing his question while he was starting to feel nervous in front of you.
Instead of answering, you brought your hands to cup his faceâand then you were standing on your tiptoes before you could overthink it. Keonho immediately placed his hands on your waist, his gaze flickering to your lips for the briefest second before finding your eyes again.
Neither of you could remember who was the first one to close the distance.
The kiss was tentative at first, as though you were both afraid the slight movement might shatter the moment.
When neither of you pulled away, it deepened naturally. It became more gentle, more careful; like you both were discovering something you needed.
When you finally pulled away, you were both breathing a little heavier. Keonhoâs hands wrapped around your middle, his head falling into your neck.
And you stood there, under the stars, holding him.
The world kept moving; the night was still young.
And somehow, with him in your arms, it felt like it was just the beginning of everything.
origamiaround
gracieabrams
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
izzy806
